


Iskra

by Moiren



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Good Peter, High School, Murder, Pack, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Protective Peter Hale, Slow Burn, Warning: Kate Argent, Werewolves, World building in the meantime, Young Peter Hale, like a year, seriously slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 00:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13986147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiren/pseuds/Moiren
Summary: Claudia Stilinski has been diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia for a month. Sheriff Stilinski is trying to prepare for the inevitable and doesn't even begin to know how. Stiles isn't actually aware yet, and Elże is trying just to cope with a lifetime's worth of knowledge that's being poured on her as well as losing her mother.Peter Hale is a senior. Popular, but distant. Constantly aware, if only for practice to become the Hale enforcer, his Alpha's left hand. Laura is a sophomore deciding whether she wants to be Alpha after Talia or ask her to pass to someone else, and Derek is a freshman trying to figure out how he fits into the world as a werewolf and whether a semi-normal life can as well.Somehow, Elże's upheaval turns into Peter's after the first day of school, and strangely enough, he doesn't actually mind. But as Claudia's death draws nearer, and more hunters and additional packs arrive in Beacon Hills as the months go on, the two find themselves surrounded by anger, power, and death from all sides and wonder if they are actually capable of surviving, together or alone.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would we change if we knew what was to come?
> 
> Is the wondering worthwhile if it changes nothing at all?
> 
> Or perhaps, it changes more than we know.
> 
>  
> 
> If Peter were a little younger, and made a real friend along the way...

Looking back, if Peter were to identify the worst day of his life, he'd be torn between two. Both burned.

* * *

 

The first, undoubtedly, was the day of the fire.

Feeling one pack bond after another snap in such a short amount of time, the only family he'd ever known dying in a period that could've been minutes or hours or days. He never actually knew how long it took, all he could focus on was the pain, no, not the pain.  _"GET THE GIRLS OUT!"_  his sister had screamed, the red already syphoning out of her eyes as the flames rose. After the pain came the panic and the forced calm to cover it, trying to keep his pack together and as safe as they could be. Barely letting the paramedics close enough, desperately not snarling or flashing his eyes at any member of the BHSD who veered too close. Holding Derek and Laura as tightly as he possibly could when they finally arrived.

The flashing memories slowed down the further from the fire time went. Covering the girls in blankets after they had showered off the soot, although he was still covered in it himself. The smell of burning would never leave his nose no matter how strong the scent of soap. Drinking a coffee because he knew he wouldn't sleep and it smelled better than smoke. Finally stumbling to the shower with his clothes on. With the kids asleep he could finally break alone.

But he was never alone. She always knew. Was always there.

She'd held him under the water, clothes as wet as his until the water ran cold, making him strip and scrub like she had the girls and Derek. She hadn't bothered bandaging the wounds but cleaned them out anyway. He remembered thinking he should feel the sting of alcohol but didn't. He remembered kissing her, desperately when she stood to put the kit away, as if their new bond was to be ripped out of his heart like all the others. Holding her, collapsing on the couch with her in his arms, guarding over his nieces and nephew piled on the air mattress on the floor, aware of, but not waking when the sheriff stumbled into the house hours later and paused to look in the living room. 

* * *

The second day was actually earlier by a few months. October of 2004. Claudia Stilinski died.

Which in itself wasn't a surprise. Claudia had been dying for over a year. What happened afterwards was the worst Hunter's moon Peter ever experienced. Watching the flames writhe under her skin as her eyes grew wide in horror and pain, casting a desperate look at her brother who stared at her with equal fear, before running out the door. The look on Stiles's face sending Peter after her into the cold woods, uncaring of hunters as he followed the smell of burning, crackling flames.

She'd waited for him at the clearing, warning him away.

He hadn't listened.

If the power in her body scalded him, it was burning her alive as she crumpled at the roots of the enormous tree, but he didn't pull away, the veins in his arms stained black, but he didn't know if he was actually making a difference. When it ended, the flames burned down to smouldering embers, hours later he guessed, he carried her to the root cellar he hid in for days with Derek. It had hidden them then, it would hide them now.

When she opened her eyes as the search party tried to take her away, her eyes glowed, burning with more gold than even his own did. Later, when seeing it in the mirror for the first time, she called it 'hellfire' as she watched it encompass her entire eye. Peter couldn't disagree, for the eyes that shared her pain with him that day, leaving him gasping with the emotion of it, hadn't been ones he knew.

She burned more days than not after her mother died, and Peter could never even take the edge off of her pain, and he hated the power her mother had bestowed her.

* * *

As Peter watched the woman who took everything from him standing over the prone form draped in a black coat, tempting to steal her too, Peter knew she would know what it meant to burn.

It was only fair.

He knew the feeling so well himself.

 


	2. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't even know her name, yet he knows she's about to shatter.

**August 14th 2003**

If Peter Hale didn't know otherwise, he might have assumed Eliza Stilinski was a new student.

Actually, he had assumed that at first. Even if he did try to keep a rough idea of the school happenings - you couldn't notice the abnormal if you weren't familiar with the normal - there were over 360 students in his class year alone. He didn't recognise Eliza Stilinski, who cut off Mrs Doi before she completely butchered whatever her actual name was.

"Eliza," she had provided with a sigh. Apparently, that wasn't similar enough to whatever her actual name was or something, because Doi had referred to her as Stilinski for the rest of class without even a 'Miss' tacked on.

Peter probably wouldn't have even noticed the whole exchange-it was the first day of school, no one actually paid any attention-if not for the tension radiating off of Eliza to the point he could smell it. Her scent was like coffee that had turned bitter after it was left on the burner too long, mixed with the familiar scent of fear-someone on campus was always scared of something-and less familiar of grief. It was too strong to ignore in the three classes he shared with her when the other teachers there also couldn't pronounce her name. Students always snickered at stuff like that, this being no exception, and by Statistics, Peter figured he would have noticed if she'd been enrolled last year. Harris seemed to enjoy butchering it in chemistry. Laura had him last year, but Peter wasn't prepared for the pure animosity the man had for teenagers.

He managed to forget about her during psychology, his only class without her, and probably wouldn't have thought about her again unless she still reeked the next day. He would have also kept walking past Coach Finstock's office after stopping by Coach Owen's office to find out about tryout dates for basketball if the bitter coffee scent didn't betray who the cross-country/lacrosse coach was yelling at this time. Why anyone wanted to play under the eccentric man, Peter would never know.

"What do you mean you can't play lacrosse this year?" Finstock asked. Well, more shouted, he never just said anything. That was actually Peter's first hint she wasn't new since everyone had seemed baffled by her; lacrosse season didn't start until February.

Curiosity was the only reason he stopped. Finding out about how the lacrosse team sucked even more than they already did might have been a tiny motivation.

"I don't have time this year," she said in the same tight, exasperated tone she'd used on every teacher. Not the tone of voice from the nervous new student as Peter had assumed, but the frustrated one of not being listened to. For at least the past year, clearly.

"What do you mean you don't have time? Is it because you're a senior? You're planning on going to the police academy, so no applications. And, you're smart; it won't be that different. For you anyway. Can't say the same for the other idiots-"

"It's not that, Coach." Eliza interrupted.

"That what it is?"

Peter could hear the breaths taken through a chest that wasn't expanding quite as easily as it should. "My mom's in hospital."

"So? It's not like she's not dying."

Had Eliza's rising heartbeat and forced breaths not told Peter that was exactly the case, he had a feeling just looking at her would from the frosty silence if he could hear through the wall. Peter was reminded exactly why he tried to forget taking Economics last year. He actually wondered how such a dense man could even teach it in the first place.

"Oh, God."

"Yup," Eliza said sharply. "Dad hasn't fixed the jeep yet so I've got to walk to go get Stiles so we can head over to Beacon Memorial. I can't run cross country and to the elementary school."

"Well, I'll leave you on the lacrosse rooster," Finstock eventually said. "Season's not until February, so in case you change your mind, you'll have a spot."

"I don't think that'll happen, but thanks." She left quickly then, before Peter was even aware that she was walking out, and she literally ran into him before he registered it. He caught her by her arms instinctively, nearly dropping his bag. "Woah, you ok?" he asked. Then immediately berated himself for asking such a stupid question. Or not just walking away, because now he couldn't make himself when he felt her shaking. _Damn it._

Eliza shook her head and tried to pull away, but Peter tightened his grip on her trembling arms slightly. Her scent had a hint of salt to it, and her heart rate was still rising and he just knew she was about to shatter. He didn't know how; he was running on instinct with an ounce of practised tact, though that was more that Finstock had had. Behind them, in the locker rooms, the noises were getting louder from the students about to try out for cross county. He twisted slightly down the hallway. Finstock's office was to his left, the girls' locker room behind them and also occupied from the sound of it.

"Come on." He half-pulled, half-guided Eliza down the hall and up the stairs, looking for anywhere empty. Which ended up being the women's bathroom. _Well, beggars can't be choosers._

Eliza just looked at him like a deer in the headlights, confused, and damn-it-all, visibly afraid, not just smelling like it. "Please, just..." Whatever else she tried to say lost as her breathing increased.

"Hey." Peter dropped his bag and held her arms again, before thinking better of it, not wanting to trap her, and cupped her shoulders gently. The ever-present scent of her fear didn't increase, so he took it as a sign she wasn't afraid _of him_. "It's ok." He offered her what he hoped was a reassuring look. "You're ok."

The tears he could smell a few minutes before were gathered in her eyes now. "Nothing's ok," she whispered. And she said it with the weight of much more than a girl losing her mother. Like it was something bigger, like the way Talia would talk when something was up in Beacon Hills, which, thankfully, had been a while. 

Peter found he couldn't really argue with her. He wasn't close to his father before he died, hardly old enough to recall a pack bond with the Alpha, but he couldn't imagine losing his mother, or Talia, or Derek, or anyone else in the pack. He debated for a minute, lost. Words were pointless; he didn't know enough to say something that wasn't meaningless to her in this situation. Touch was how pack comforted, but she wasn't pack. Eliza took another breath, so tense that it sounded like she was choking and that made up Peter's mind. _To hell with it._

Eliza resisted for a moment when he gently, barely, tugged her towards him, before taking a half step forward and leaning against him, head against his shoulder. Her body succumbed to the shaking a few seconds later, and it wasn't long before he could feel his shirt getting damp as Eliza quietly sobbed. Though, Peter suspected the volume was because she was exhausted rather than any sense of propriety.

"Hey, let's sit down," he coaxed, realised their positions were getting uncomfortable. He didn't even consider leaving at this point, and he had no idea why he wasn't scrambling to get away from the awkward situation of a stranger crying on him. He manoeuvred them so they were sitting on the floor, her legs bridged over Peter's, his arms cradling her and one hand stroking her hair, Eliza's head resting where his shoulder met his neck (which actually helped with the strangeness, even if it was unintentional; it was such a pack reaction.) Peter's back was against the door. He doubted someone would try to come in, but he'd hopefully be able to hold it closed enough to convince them the bathroom was locked and leave them in relative peace, if not solitude.

Eventually, Peter wasn't sure how long, Eliza's heartbeat lowered to a semi-normal rate, and her body stopped hitching. He didn't move until she eventually stirred, moving his arms as she raised herself up slightly and wiped away the blonde hair that stuck to her damp face.

"You need anything?" he asked.

She glanced at him quickly before looking away, face turning red again after fading post-tears. "Huh? No!" She pulled herself further away and started straightening her slightly crumpled clothes. "You've done more than enough. I just unloaded everything on a total stranger. You don't even know what's going on." Her heart rate started to rise again as embarrassment kicked in. She looked back at him. "I mean, do you even know my name?"

Peter snorted with half a grin. "Do you know mine?"

She frowned slightly. "You're Peter Hale. Everyone in the school knows who you are."

Fair point, if slightly exaggerated.

"And you're Eliza. Or your nickname is, I've never actually heard your full name. See? Not total strangers. Hey," he said, used his fingers to guide her face back when she looked at the floor. "It's ok. Really."

She looked at him sceptically, before nodding shortly and gathering her school bag as she glanced at her watch. "I need to go, I'm late," said heart rate going up again. "My parents and the school are going to be worried. And probably mad. And God knows about Stiles."

"Need a lift to the elementary school?" He saw her surprised and suspicious face. "Was walking by; I couldn't help but overhear earlier. I can drop you off at the hospital too if that helps. I promise I'm not a creeper."

Eliza looked at her watch again. "You've done enough."

"How late are you?" Peter asked pointedly, not actually knowing himself, but they'd been sitting on the cold bathroom tile for a while. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to."

Eliza stared at him indecisively for a moment. "Thanks," she said, and hoisted her bag on her shoulder. Or tried to, before Peter took it with a look that stopped her from arguing. 

* * *

Beacon Hills had two elementary schools. Kindergarten through second grade went to Brook's Creek Elementary, while the other grades went to Beacon Hills Elementary. Peter knew this, not because he actually remembered attending, but Marshal went to the former, and Cora, Malia, and Trey the later. Eliza clearly hadn't expected him to know that when Peter just asked Stiles' grade and began to drive in the right direction. Turns out Eliza's brother and his niece might share a class.

Of course, arriving was a whole other issue. Stiles was supposed to be in after-school care until 4:00 since he was released an hour earlier than the high school, and Eliza had a twenty-minute walk. Today, since she had to speak with Finstock, it was 4:30. Except she and Peter hadn't left the school until after 5:00, leaving Eliza swearing under her breath when they pulled up to the school at quarter-past behind a sheriff's department cruiser.

"Shit, shit, shit." In all fairness, she was being quiet, Peter just had better than average hearing.

"What's wrong?"

Eliza tore her eyes from the cruiser to look over at him. "That's my dad's car. Meaning they called him and he's probably out of his mind right now. Hopefully, he didn't tell mom. She won't do well with that. That's the last thing she needs right now."

Peter was learning that Eliza rambled when nervous, spitting out pretty much her entire train of thought. He put a hand on her flailing arm. "Hey, relax. He's still here. He might be waiting for you. Want me to come in with you?"

She was reaching behind the seat for her backpack before she answered when one of the school double doors opened and a deputy and a younger boy walked out quickly, the boy clearly energetic, if restrained.

"Actually, is that them?" Peter asked.

She twisted back around, looking while still trying to unwedge her backpack. "Yeah." Peter finally just pulled the bag himself.

"Thanks for the ride... And, you know, for earlier." She pursed her lips slightly, not really looking at him.

"No problem." Peter glanced at the deputy, who had noticed them and was hurrying over. "Want me to stay?" he asked with a wince. Eliza's father looked like he would threaten him just for driving her over.

"Yeah, no... I'll just tell him I got stuck with Finstock and you offered me a ride."

"Lying by omission?"

Eliza shrugged. "I probably do that more than I should if it means he doesn't worry. I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah." There wasn't really anything left to say, and she climbed out and shut the door. He watched for a moment when she met her father, clearly nervous, before pulling away. She'd probably had enough of his audience today.

* * *

The whole drive home Peter racked his brain for an excuse that wasn't a lie but obviously wasn't the complete truth, because it wasn't his family's business, as to why he was home so late. Nearly two hours after school had ended. He finally settled on taking a girl to pick up her brother because she didn't have a ride,  _true,_  and meeting up with her dad,  _also true._ Hopefully, his siblings and mother wouldn't press him for more. He also had to talk to Talia about basketball for Derek, which was going to be a field day to explain to his nephew, and do homework, and also figure out what the plan was for the full moon on Saturday.

He was broken from his thoughts pulling up the drive to the house by the girls running across the lawn alongside him as he parked. Malia and possibly Jacob must be spending the night.

"Mom's worried," Cora announced as he got out. "Where've you been? You were supposed to be back _hours_ ago."

Peter sighed.  _Let the interrogation begin._ "I was helping out a friend."

"Then why didn't you tell Mom?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You do realise _I'm_ eighteen," he avoided, the _and you're nine_  implied. He could have called Talia or his Mom on his cell phone, it just hadn't really a top priority at the time. He looked over to see Malia frowning at him. "And what's your problem?"

"You don't talk about your friends."

Peter smirked. "Exactly. That I talk about. Doesn't mean I don't have any." He started to walk towards the house.

"What's she like?"

Peter turned around. "What makes you say she's a girl?" he asked, already knowing. He wasn't surprised Malia had picked up Eliza's scent, though he wished she hadn't. The eight-year-old was talented at reading scents despite her age, better than all his other nieces and nephews, anyway, and she wasn't even shifting yet.

"I can smell her on you. Like when Aaron's been with his girlfriend." Aaron being Conner Blakesley's son, a wolf Talia had bitten a few years after Peter was born. Malia's eyes widened. "You have a girlfriend!"

Peter rolled his eyes. "No, I don't," he said, the damage already done. Cora had gotten an equally gleeful expression, and the two raced in front of him to the house, most likely to tell Laura. Who wouldn't ask him the same innocent questions a third and fourth grader would. "Malia!"

It was David he met at the door, soccer ball in hand. The twelve-year-old looked a bit shell-shocked. "Cora and Malia just ran through here singing that you've got a girlfriend," though, to his credit, he sounded more confused and wary than anything else. Peter knew he wouldn't take his cousins at face value, he was too analytical for that, though the close encounter with the younger girls probably caught him off guard. "The whole house will have heard them."

"Wonderful." Peter nodded at the soccer ball tucked under his arm. "Once I've escaped interrogation and homework, you want to practice your goals?"

David grinned. "Yeah!"

"It might be a while," Peter warned as his nephew ran out. Peter wasn't a fan of soccer, but he could block a net, and help David practice his control and reflexes, and get out some building energy they all had with the full moon approaching. Granted, David probably knew exactly why he was doing it, but Derek wouldn't play unless forced, the girls weren't interested, and rest of the boys were too young. Plus, Peter liked being the cool uncle, even if he was barely the oldest of their age group.

Before he could get any further into the house, his brother Jacob stopped him. "Talia and Mom want you in the study."

Another sigh. "Of course they do." He hung his keys on the rack and kicked off his sneakers off against the wall. He'd bring them up to his room later. He gestured forwards. "You apart of this one?"

"Nah. I think they just want to know where you've been. Though, that might have changed with the girls' announcement," Jacob looked at him slyly.

Peter stopped at the study door and turned around to face his brother. "For the record, I don't have a girlfriend, and you'd be the one to talk about that. Spread the word. Also, maybe teach your daughter to get all the information before sharing it with the entire pack." With that, he opened the study door, slipped inside and shut the door on Jacob's annoyed face. Served the dick right. Bringing up Malia's mother was a low blow, but he didn't like even his pack poking in his life without a damn good reason. His nieces in elementary school were one thing, his forty-something-year-old brother was another.

The study wasn't one in a traditional sense. There was no desk, but plenty of comfortable chairs, some art, a coffee table and bookshelves on most of the walls, a filing cabinet, and one wall of windows. It was a sanctuary, a safe place for the pack, especially their Alpha. Talia's study and a few of the bedrooms in the house were soundproofed, though Peter was never sure how much of that was for the benefit of the pack not having to hear things, or Talia always being hyper-aware of every member and not wanting to. Though, he didn't really care the reason so long as he didn't have to listen to his siblings' sex lives.

His mother was on him and hugging him before he could even say hello. "Where have you been? We were worried. You know the Argents have been on the prowl, and-" Gwendoline Hale stopped as soon as she caught Eliza's scent on him.

The thing was, Malia and Cora weren't being entirely presumptuous. The closer in proximity you were to a person, the more of their scent you picked up. And right now, Peter knew he reeked of Eliza from where he'd held her for so long and shared the car with her. It wasn't so much disapproval but surprise that had everyone acting weird. He'd made his position known. Peter didn't date. He'd made out with some girls, gone out a few times, but that was it, and not since sophomore year. Definitely never slept with any of them. Too much was at stake. Loss of control for one, and the pack's safety for another. Wasn't worth it for what would probably be a temporary thing anyway. Non-wolves were hard to date anyway, regardless of age.

"She's just a friend. I gave her a ride to the elementary school to pick up her brother and we met her dad," Peter forestalled any questions. He glanced over at Talia. "Sorry, I forgot to call." And he actually was sorry, if only because Talia had enough to worry about with a pack as large as theirs was. Peter didn't intend to cause her more stress if it could be avoided, though sometimes it happened anyway.

Talia shook her head. "No, it's fine. I figured you had a reason. Though, at least try to send a text next time? Mom's right; Gerard Argent's getting antsy. Just for our peace of mind."

Peter nodded. Talia had established a while ago that she trusted him when there had been doubt. There had been a long conversation about an Alpha's mindset and duties, which had confused Peter until she'd told him Alex wanted to train him as the next enforcer last year. Things were much less tense since then, at least for that reason. Now, he had a whole other slew of growing responsibilities that created their own stress.

"Though, I did want to talk to you about Derek."

Peter held in a groan. He knew they needed to, but his nephew's control issues weren't on the top of the list of things he was looking forward to. It ranked below the bottom currently. He sat on the couch opposite Talia and his mother, pushing his emotions aide. He loved Derek, he was essentially his brother, but he couldn't think about Derek's reaction, rather what was best for him and best for the pack as a whole. "Here's the tryout schedule, though it's tentative for now, but two and half months, give or take."

Talia glanced at it. "Will he be ready?"

All sports had to be approved by Talia before anyone was even allowed to try out for a team. The upped heartrate, hormones, and competitive tension were guaranteed to be a disaster if a wolf wasn't in control, hence why most of the pack never played until after their freshman year and most of their sports knowledge was limited to basketball since they could only practice with the rest of the pack. Conner taught football in a different district, but Beacon Hills didn't have a team.

Derek wanted to go for basketball this year.

"No." Peter leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "Not remotely. As it is, we're lucky the full moon's on a Saturday this month, or I might say take him out as sick." The Hales were already developing a reputation of always catching the latest bug going around, first with Laura, Tasha and Theresa, and now adding in Derek.

Talia put the paper on the table. "Maybe we should have waited a year."

Gwendoline shook her head. "No. He's been shifting sporadically through middle school. If we were going to take him out of school it would've been then, not his freshman year. He's going to have to learn."

"That's the problem," Peter said. "He's angry because he's struggling, meaning he can't focus, meaning he can't control the shift, meaning he's getting even angrier. It's a vicious cycle. I'd say take him out of school so he can focus, but that'll just piss him off more. He's resentful. Plus, isolating him now will just make it harder when he eventually does go back. He needs an anchor."

"It helped you," Talia pointed out.

"Derek and I are different people. I was the oldest and had all the attention for a couple years, Derek's somewhere in the middle of a group of almost a dozen that's all learning to shift at once. Plus, you took me out in back in middle school when I initially started. High school is more complicated, and that's just the paperwork involved."

Talia looked at him, pleading, which wasn't something Peter was used to seeing from the Alpha. "Will you keep working with him? I know you're busy, and I do when I can, but Laura's learning about being an Alpha, if she wants it, and literally all the kids but Gwen are learning or just starting to shift, and Derek trusts you. He always has."

"I already said I would." Peter cut off her rambling. Talia rarely rambled. He wouldn't let her. "It's just going to take some time." He paused. "And maybe something a little more unorthodox." He'd been thinking about it for a while now, and they were running out of options.

"What are you thinking?" His mother asked.

"Well, what's he got in steady supply right now?" Peter held up a hand before they could argue. "I know! I know! It's not ideal, but it's a starting place until he can calm down some. I know it's dangerous to rely on that, but the triskelion isn't working right now, and if we don't do something, he's liable to hurt someone, and that's the last thing he needs right now, not to mention the risk for the rest of the pack."

"If he learns to rely on that," his mother warned, "He's going to get impulsive. We've met enough packs who learn that way."  _The more feral packs_.

"I know. But right now, we're not getting anywhere. If that doesn't work... Maybe Satomi can help. Her pack is over two dozen, but they're all bitten, and in control." Another Alpha teaching Derek could put stress on their pack bond for various reasons, and might not even work for that reason.

"Run with him Saturday. Let's give a month or two before we go down that road." Talia decided.

Peter nodded. He'd already planned to. "Anything else?"

Talia waved her hand. "I think Alex wanted to talk to you this weekend, but he'll let you know."

"Right." Peter pointed at the sheet still on the table. "I would remove that somewhere and not show it to Derek yet. Wait until next week, at least."

"Fair enough," Gwendoline said, picking up the piece of the paper.

Peter left, not sure whether to be relieved or worried about the lack of mention about Eliza, or the scent of her fear that probably still clung to him.

He hadn't expected his mother to follow him to the kitchen while he started the kettle and dug around in the cupboard for some of the tea Satomi had left last time she visited.

"You know that's Talia's, right?" 

Peter turned to see his mother standing at the island with a grin. "Talia can have it. Why anyone wants tea made from mushrooms is beyond me." He scooped some into a tea ball before leaning against the counter while he waited for the water to boil. He pointed his chin in the direction of the study. "She been like this all day?" His sister smelled subdued and tense. A line of tension held her body ridged. If Talia was bothered by something, she was usually very, very good at hiding it.

Gwendoline hummed. "I think she gets first day of school jitters worse than you lot actually going to school." She fixed him with a look. "It means she cares."

"I didn't say anything," Peter reproached. Sometimes he thought his mother expected the surprise peace between him and Talia to suddenly vanish. Though, to be fair, everyone had thought that for the first few months. "It just takes a lot to get her worked up like that. Usually something messy."

"Well, you disappearing for two hours didn't help."

"I told you what happened!" Sometimes Peter thought his mother was the Alpha, not his sister, at least when it came to him. "And I am sorry," he added.

"You told an omitted version of what happened." Peter opened his mouth to argue. "I'm your mother, I know you too well," she said. Gwendoline sat down on one of the bar stools. "So, what's her name? Talia might let you off the hook, but I'm retired, and Philip's certainly never going to get a more than casual love life for me to meddle in."

"Go meddle in Laura's, then. Nothing's going on."

"You're covered in her scent. I beg to differ. Her name."

The kettle was getting close to boiling. Peter pointedly turned his back to his mother under the guise of waiting for it. "Eliza. And it really isn't what you think."

"Well, it wasn't romantic, I know that much." She rolled her eyes when Peter turned back around suspiciously. "Not smelling like that it wasn't. Talia might be pretending not to be paying much notice and the girls might not know what that means, but she definitely wasn't happy."

The kettle finally went off and Peter turned back to make the tea, waiting for it the brew before taking it to Talia, knowing she would drink it immediately even if it wasn't ready. He debated taking it anyway to get away though. Suddenly, Peter realised that Eliza's fear was entirely without context, and looked really, really, bad to the wrong people. His mother hadn't made an accusation, but he could feel it humming faintly in the air.

"The girls have music playing upstairs, they aren't subtle. Jacob's out with all the boys, Philip, Sam, and May aren't home yet, and Seth's got the night shift at the station, so he's asleep." Peter wouldn't have put it past his mother to threaten the girls and shoo everyone else out the house. "Son, please talk to me."

"So you can know all my business?" Peter huffed. Then he wished he hadn't said that. Being defensive wasn't helping.

"Because this is unusual for you, and I'm a little worried," she admitted readily. "And I'm not inclined to believe the worst of you, so I'm hoping you might have something along the lines of someone who might be a friend." Her heartbeat was steady, not lying. Gwendoline either told her children everything or nothing. There was never omission. And if she went through the trouble to get a private conversation, it would stay between them. It was reassuring that she didn't think _he_ had been the one to scare Eliza, Peter just didn't want to talk about it. 

"I have friends," he diverted.

"You have nieces and nephews who look up to you as a role model. Not the same thing. You need someone your age who isn't depending on you like that. And not just people you talk to at lunch, either."

"Isn't friendship being dependant on someone?"

"For support, not guidance."

"Aaron."

"Aaron goes to a different school from you. You only see him on the weekends and the full moon during the school year."

Peter pulled the tea ball out and dumped it in the sink, grabbed the mug off the counter, and started to make his way to walk to the office. "You are not taking that tea until you start talking. Talia won't notice. You can stick in the microwave if it gets cold." Moments like this reminded Peter that while never an Alpha herself, his mother had been an Alpha's mate, and raised another one. He roughly put the mug back on the counter, though he was careful not to slam it."

"Why is this so important to you?"

"Because my son, ever since he started to understand what it means to be a wolf compared to a human said he would never get close to someone who could get hurt because of what he was, and that attitude only got worse after you starting training with Alex. Now, you're telling me you might have a friend, that you also did a favour for. Not only do you not just hand out favours to people who aren't pack, I know it doesn't take two hours to drive to the elementary school, someone's house, and back here. Beason Hills isn't that big." Peter could smell the worry coming off of his mother.

"Her mother's dying," he eventually said. "I ran into her, and she was, just... I knew she was about to break. I don't know how. And, I know what it's like to not want to lose control in front of everyone. Hell, I could smell it on her all day, she's afraid. And... I sat on the floor in the girl's bathroom with her for however long. I was going to take her to the hospital too, but her dad was already at the school." Peter took a deep breath. "I don't even know why I did it. But I couldn't walk away."

Gwendoline studied him for a moment. "Do you like her?"

"I don't know a thing about her. I don't even know her first name, none of the teachers could pronounce it. Oh, and she plays lacrosse."

"Then I would try and find out. Maybe get Nellie to help you on the weekend if you can't say it."

"Why?"

"Because it sounds like she could use a friend too, if she broke down to you."

Peter snorted. "What makes you think I want to be friends?"

"You wouldn't be protecting her if you didn't possibly like the idea," Gwendoline said. She had a knowing look in her eye, but Peter knew she would have told him whatever that was about if she wanted him to know, so didn't bother asking. "Now, go take that to your sister."

"Yes, ma'am."

Of course, it wasn't as simple as that, because upon leaving the study, Laura was standing outside waiting for him.

"No," Peter said.

"Come on."

"No," he said, moving past her to go out to the yard.

"You know we go to the same school."

"Yes, Laura, I know. We ate lunch together." She drove with Derek and the other girls in the pack attending BHHS. Derek would normally drive with him, but Talia had, and would probably continue to force the issue since Peter had to talk to Coach Owen today and would have practice later in the year. Peter was also a year older than everyone in the school, so she tried to give him some independence.

"Exactly. I can harass you. Or spy on you."

"You do that. Still not telling you anything. Now move."

"Is she cute?"

"Irrelevant." That one almost stopped Peter, but only because he had to think about it. Thinking back, Eliza was pretty. Long blonde hair that escaped her hair tie sprung to mind. Green eyes that would probably be striking when they weren't red from crying. He kept walking. No way in hell he would ever admit that anyone but _maybe_ his mother, and definitely not to Laura.

Of course, Jacob led the continued heckling outside, though, Peter wasn't sure if the kids all even knew what they were talking about. Except for Derek. He was somehow roped into the scheme and knew exactly which buttons to press. Peter put an end to that by pointing out Derek had never even had a girlfriend, which ended up in a wrestling match that was originally against them against each other until they managed to turn all the kids on Jacob. The insults were worth it to see his older brother buried until a pile of half a dozen kids who were more than holding their own.

And later that night, after a dinner filled with everyone's first day of school, favourite classes and hated teachers, Peter's 'girlfriend' forgotten in the excitement, he laid in bed turning his mother's words over in his head, and elected to let Eliza make the first move. She had been vulnerable once, and he wouldn't force her to be again. He wasn't sure actually sure if he wanted a friend in the way his mother put it, but no point worrying until he knew what she would do. Then he would decide whether it would be worth lying to her about what he was. Because that was essentially what he would be doing; hiding the biggest part of himself from her. Lying by omission was still a lie. He would know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter seems a bit OOC, but that will be explained more as time goes on. Essentially, this all stems from Peter being younger (we're ignoring were-wolf ageing and just assuming they're talking about mental maturity since I'll get a headache doing some math otherwise.) Read on for more on Eliza's name.


	3. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luckily, Peter didn't share any classes with his nieces and nephew. That doesn't stop his family from being far too nosey though.

**August 15th 2003**

Eliza wasn't in class the following day until about twenty seconds before the last bell, sliding into the only computer desk left at the front of the room right before Mr Farrer launched into the coming projects for the year in computer science. Peter wasn't sure whether she noticed him two stations down or not in her rush. Her heart rate and breathing were elevated slightly, and he could smell a tinge of sweat. Her clothes obviously weren't intentionally paired together. Peter didn't think she was a fashionable student in general, but she barely looked put together. Her long hair was messy in its hair tie, and he saw she wasn't wearing her watch when she reached up to attempt smooth back the loose strands of hair.

Her scent was still distractingly bitter, if not as strong. The coffee smell was more potent, and Peter bet she was drinking it before coming into the room.

He found himself packing up slower at the end of the class then he might have, only the realise that Eliza had packed up and gone before he zipped his bag, her coffee scent lost in the throng of several hundred students switching classrooms in the ten-minute rush.

She wasn't in his Spanish class. Peter had to talk himself out of the disappointment he would never admit to having. They already shared three classes in their first block. It would be unusual to share more unintentionally. Especially since, to Peter's knowledge, they hadn't shared _any_ class before in three years. Not many students took fourth year Spanish at Beacon Hills anyway.

To his surprise, she sat in the seat across from in the library halfway through his free period after lunch, noticeably more presentable than that morning.

"I thought you might be avoiding me," he said.

"Well, it's this or awkwardly avoid you for the next two semesters. We share half our classes, so that might be hard."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "And awkward conversation is better?"

"You spoke first."

"You sat next to me," Peter pointed out.

"The conversation doesn't have to be awkward."

Peter studied her. Her face didn't betray anything, but her tone was hopeful, and her heartbeat was fairly steady. "Was that your intent?" he asked. 

"Maybe. Unless you aren't interested. In which case I'll make a graceful exit now before I embarrass myself even more," Eliza said, not looking at him.

"Then I wouldn't have said anything." Peter waited until she looked at him again. "I already told you, I don't do anything I don't want to."

"Actually, you said you wouldn't have offered if you didn't want to," Eliza quipped.

Peter shrugged but was amused. "Still stands. Aren't I technically offering?" He studied her a moment. "You don't have many friends, do you?"

"Nope. I'm the weird deputy's kid who likes to go to crime scenes. I mouth off. I've been told I'm too smart for my own good. And I'm halfway decent at lacrosse. You probably know most of that."

Peter sook his head. "No, just that you played lacrosse. I don't think I've ever had a class with you."

"Nope, we had Spanish with Mr Gott freshman year."

Peter stared at her. "You remember that? It was three years ago." He didn't, and he'd like to think he would remember her.

Eliza pursed her lips. "There's not much I don't remember if I put my mind to it. It's kinda nice, means I don't have to make many notes."

Peter could tell she hated it, though he wasn't sure why. "You can't process it?" He guessed.

"What?"

"Everything you remember. You clearly don't like it. Is that why?"

"Nah, that's not a problem. It's more that's it's one more reason that I'm different."

"That's not a bad thing," Peter said. In fact, for him, it was the opposite. Normal was boring, but maybe that's because he was constantly on the lookout for something strange, out of instinct and constant habit that Alex was drilling into him.

Eliza finally looked him in the eye. "This is the longest conversation I've had with a student who isn't slamming me into lockers, working on a project with me, or on the lacrosse team. And they don't like me anyway because I'm a girl."

Peter had to force himself not to respond to her being slammed into lockers, though he was sure she had seen the anger on his face. He didn't want to think rationally about it. He probably wouldn't even if the full moon wasn't in a few days, but he didn't linger on that particular train of thought. Elze clearly didn't think much of it, which was a problem in and of itself. He forced his hands to relax from the fists they had unconsciously formed into. It wasn't instinctive. Alex had trained him to do it to hide his claws.  _Breathe. Separate. Prioritize. Pack First._ Left hands couldn't think about the circle and balance and Alphas and Betas and Omegas. The pack came first before everything. It's what made them as dangerous as Alphas; they had no boundaries. 

Elze seemed blase about the violence, so it probably wasn't a problem anymore. Him getting angry and lashing out over it wouldn't help, and practically speaking, would only scare her off. "Then why do you play?" He asked, focusing on the last part of her statement.

She paused, taking him in for a moment, and he realised he'd probably taken too long to respond. Then she shrugged again. "I don't know. Something to prove? Mostly because it's fun. Or was. I'm not playing anymore."

Because of her mother, Peter knew. And she probably knew that he knew. He hesitated, not sure whether this was an intentional opening to talk about it or a test not to.

She seemed to notice him debating with himself and rolled her eyes. "You can ask," she said, then launched into an explanation before he could. "Frontotemporal Dementia. Twenty percent of cases are in young people. She was diagnosed about a month ago, but the doctors think she's had it for most of the year so far, if not longer. Life expectancy between two and fifteen years. One of the symptoms is rebelliousness. She checked herself into the hospital now while she's still mostly thinking straight, so she doesn't fight us on it later. She's volunteered for a case study since they're still learning about it. Constant monitoring for changes."

Peter nearly winced at the clinical tone Eliza spoke with. He could almost physically feel all the emotion she was struggling to keep under wraps. He didn't say anything for a moment, not wanted to make her annoyed with pity. If she wanted that, the whole school would know what was tearing apart her family. "At the risk of sounding like a complete dick," he said slowly, "I know you're trying to stay strong for your family, but I've already seen you hurting. There really isn't a point in hiding it. You don't need too. If I put up with it when I didn't know you, why wouldn't I now?"

She looked away from him again. "If I let it out, I don't know if I can put it back in," she admitted softly.

Peter leaned forward. "Take it from me. If you keep it in, it'll force itself out. If you choose when to let it go, you stay in control. You need an outlet."

She eyed him suspiciously. It probably was a strange thing to hear from a 'typical' high schooler. "And you're volunteering yourself?"

Peter scoffed. "I already have, really, if we count yesterday."

Eliza hesitated, studying him. Peter had the odd sensation she wasn't looking for a lie, but something else, something deeper. It was a penetrating feeling, and he found himself wanted to shy away from it and open himself up to it all at once.

She seemed to like whatever it was she saw, and finally stuck her hand out across the table. "Friends then?"

Peter sighed exaggeratedly, "I suppose," he said, before taking her hand in a mock shake. The tension he'd felt throughout their conversation vanished immediately. He waited for a beat while she took out her homework, but couldn't help but ask, "Were your parents mad?"

Eliza blew her breath out, puffing out her checks. "Mom doesn't know, and Stiles doesn't really, just that something happened. Dad let it go. I said you noticed something was wrong and we were talking. I think he's waiting for some kind of fallout from you."

"Me?" Peter really hoped he hadn't come off as a manipulative jerk. He could be both, certainly, but the former was in practice with Alex at the moment, and the latter was only if he was actively trying.

Eliza smiled. "Your nieces tell Stiles too many stories. And I've never talked about you before. Think he's afraid you'll go tell the whole school or something." She looked him in the eye. " _I_ don't think that, but you know how parents are."

Peter smiled. "They're just looking out for you," he said knowingly.

Eliza huffed. "Yours too?"

He shook his head. "Older sister. Twenty-six year age difference."

Her eyebrows rose. "Damn. I thought nine between me and Stiles was bad."

Peter frowned at the mention of the name, remembering Doi and everyone else called her Stilinski. "Please tell me Stiles isn't his actual name."

"If I had a dollar for every time I got that question..."

"I assumed it wasn't," Peter said quickly. "Figured it was hard to pronounce if yours was any indication."

She snorted. "His is worse than mine."

"Which is? Yours I mean." He asked, partly in curiosity, but also remembering his mother's words.

She looked at him. "Why do you want to know?" Apparently, most people didn't.

"Well, you're my friend, and you don't seem to like Eliza."

"Why do you say that?"

"You frown a tiny bit every time someone says it," he said, not including werewolf reflexes were probably the only reason he caught the quick, subconscious movement during class that he hadn't the day before. He understood why his mother said what she did. For a wolf, identity was everything. Self-identity for control, pack bonds for their very sanity. Recognizing scents, a place in the hierarchy. It all made up your very being, created a sense of belonging and space. If you didn't like your own name, it was highly unlikely you weren't at peace with your own sense of self, and that could be devastating to a wolf.

"You don't have to tell me," he said when she hesitated. "Just, if it makes you more comfortable."

"You're not going to be able to pronounce it," she warned.

Peter grinned, "Just have some patience if I don't get it right the first try."

"Elżbieta."

Peter winced. "Could you say it slower?"

"Elzh-bea-ta."

Peter repeated her and honestly had no idea what came out of his mouth, besides wrong. "That's nothing like Eliza."

She shrugged. "Only thing people can manage."

"There isn't anything closer?"

"Just the shortened version. My parents use that at home." Peter didn't have to be a wolf to sense the hope in her face and voice.

"Which is?" He leaned forward slightly. "I will say your name, but that's clearly going to take practice."

She laughed. "If you say so. Elze."

Peter sounded out the two syllables far more easily this time.

"That sounds more American than..." Peter trailed off not knowing what language it was.

"Polish?" Elże provided.

"Is that what it is?"

Elże nodded. "My mother's parents were immigrants. It was my great aunt's name. But, dad's American, so I got a polish name and the Americanised nickname because I couldn't say the Polish when I was little. Personally, I like mine better than Stiles'. He was 'Mischief' until he started school." She shot him a look. "But you did not hear that from me."

Peter cocked his head. "You trust me."

Elże nodded seriously. "Call it instinct. Or bonding, or whatever. All I know is that no one has ever tried to learn my name. They just give up."

 _She isn't valued enough_ , Peter thought with a pang.

"Well, I'm just going to need more tries than I thought. This how you spell it?" He asked, turning his notebook. The first attempt had a 'jsh' in it. Now it spelled 'Elzebeata.'

Elze laughed at both attempts. "Almost, put a dot above the 'z.' and take out the 'e' after it. We added that to my nickname. and it's 'b-i-e' not 'b-e-a.'"

"Elze?" He said he name just to see the happier look on her face and smell the slight easing of the scent of guilt.

"Yeah?" The single syllable couldn't hide her glee, or the slightly sweeter note to her normally bitter scent that Peter was already used to, strangely.

Peter grinned. "Now, why does no one call you that?"

Elze sighed with a sheepish look. "Remember how I said I couldn't pronounce it when I was younger?"

Peter nodded.

"Well, I did try, but from what Mom told me, it tended to come out a garbled mess my teachers couldn't really understand, so we compromised with Elze as it currently is."

Peter nodded again with a frown, not understanding how 'Eliza' had come about.

Elze was fiddling with her hands. "Until middle school. One of my teachers said it sounded like a rapper's gang name. In front of my whole class.

Peter could see it. Elze, L-Z.

She continued. "Within a couple days I was being teased so bad, I tried to find the most normal name I could that was still a little like me. 'Eliza' was close."

Peter knew how cruel kids could be. Tasha and Lyn Schirmer had been called Nazis when they studied World War II, and Theresa Armstrong had suffered astronauts jokes for weeks. The girls hadn't had a wonderful time to be sure, but teased to the point you wouldn't use your own name years later? That was truly cruel.

"Well, I'm never going to call you that again, unless you want me to." Peter decided. A glance at the clock showed he needed to pack up and head to history. Joy. Horror stories about Mr Crane have been circulating for years that put him on the same level as Harris. "And for what it's worth, I think it's nice and you should use it more."

Elze smiled softly. "You sound like my mom."

Peter shrugged on his backpack. "You should listen to her then, if not me. She sounds like a smart lady." He stood by their table as Elze finished putting away her books. Peter hadn't accomplished much once she had found him, and he doubted Elze had done any of her homework. But then, Peter guessed she had a lot of time to kill at the hospital every day.

"What's your next class?" He asked her.

"Forensics," Elze said. "This building."

Peter raised an eyebrow, falling into step with her. Her class was likely on the way to his in B Building. He forced the comment about her being slammed into lockers into the back of his mind. "You weren't kidding about going to crime scenes, were you?"

"Nope. Want to be a detective."

"Here?" Peter asked. Beacon Hills was supposedly a quiet county. The town didn't actually have its own police force, rather the Sherriff's Department was based in town and looked after the entire county. Recently, things had been calm, the Hale pack scaring off anything too crazy, but with the Argents moving back into town from the look of things, it wouldn't stay that way.

Elze shot him a look. "You'd be surprised about the amount of crap that goes down in this town." Peter realised she had assumed he was questioning the lack of crime in Beacon Hills. "Fights, thefts, animal killings, luckily with don't have too much of a drug problem, but that could change." She smirked. "The occasional murder."

Peter wasn't sure whether he should be impressed she wasn't scared, worried that she wasn't, or scared himself because murders in Beacon Hills almost always were supernatural-related, and if she wasn't careful, if _they_ weren't, she'd end up right in the middle of it.

"I want to help people," Elze continued. "I want to bring closure to someone, justice, stop it from happening again. My dad's done it my whole life. I admire him. He makes a difference." She stopped at the hallway split. "This is me. I'll see you Monday?"

Peter was about to say yes before he remembered where she was going after class. "Actually, I don't mind taking you to the hospital, if you don't want to walk."

Elze looked surprised at the offer.

"Really?"

Peter sighed dramatically. "If I was going to take you yesterday before we were "friends," you really think that I wouldn't today?"

Elze shrugged. "I don't know. I do go hunting for bodies."

"Well, as long as you weren't the one to put them in that state, I think I'll live."

Elze laughed. "That was a terrible pun."

"But it made you laugh. I'll be in the parking lot after school." He didn't wait for her response before walking to his own class.

* * *

Peter really hoped that Tasha was in the library at the end of her free period, or looking to find Theresa, Laura, and Derek so they could leave. He really, really didn't want to explain why Elze Stilinski was getting into his car after school.

As he'd predicted, Talia had told Laura and Derek that Peter would be riding on his own to school. She cited that he was an adult and could have the freedom to go where he liked after school. It was a thin excuse, and the Beta teenagers had known it, but one look from Talia had silenced any objections. His mother had pulled him aside when he was getting ready to leave after Laura and Derek went to pick up the Schirmers. "I know I'm probably nagging, but will you text or call me or Talia when you go to the hospital and when you're coming back?"

Peter just raised an eyebrow. He knew it was pointless, but he really, really didn't like people being able to assume what he was going to do. "What makes you think I'm going to the hospital?"

Gwen had just shot him a look that said  _shut up, I'm your mother._ Peter had promised to keep them updated.

To his surprise, Elze was already sitting in the shade his car provided when school let out. She looked up as he approached. Peter idly wondered how many strange looks she'd gotten from other students walking to their vehicles. "It's really hot. I don't want to walk to the school and then get on the equally hot bus down to the hospital," she said as he walked up.

"I did wonder if you walked down there." Beacon Hill Memorial was probably a good forty minutes walking on a good day with a kid in tow. Not to mention the route went down a fairly busy road.

Elze shook her head. "Nah, we take the 60 down. About 20 minutes. It's hit and miss to whether the AC works though."

Peter nodded. "Well, hop in. And pray my nieces don't see us," he muttered.

Elze snorted, overhearing. "The older or the younger ones?"

Peter thought for a moment. "Both. Though, if I had to choose, Malia and Cora. They're tactless, but their questions are far more innocent."

Elze stared at him. He pretended not to notice as he looked in his mirrors and began to inch out of the parking space. A lot of students were talking after another day of brand new classes, and others were heading to practice for sports, so there weren't as many students wandering all over the place not paying attention as there would be in later weeks, even considering it was a Friday. Elze was still staring at him as he put the car in drive and got in line to leave.

"I don't have girlfriends," he relented. "So if I as so much as mention a girl's name they all take it hilariously out of proportion."

"So I'm your hypothetical girlfriend?"

"More theoretical since you actually exist and because their assumption is wrong."

Elze laughed. "My mother's going to have a field day, and my dad might actually kill you if they hear about this."

Peter nodded seriously. "So I just have to survive the deputy sheriff. Good to know. I've got time to plan escape routes out of the county."

"Oh no. My dad's the least of your worries. You've got to survive being trapped in a car with my nine-year-old brother. And you'd need to go further than the county; Dad's got friends in the FBI."

Peter winced. "If Stiles anything like Malia and Cora, I'm legitimately scared for my life. What about Interpol? I can run away to Canada."

Elze practically doubled over laughing.

Stiles Stilinski shared his sister's eyes, but his hair was brown and unkempt, hanging over his forehead and, he was constantly pushing it out of his eyes. He had an old look on his face, like he had grown up too fast. His scent shared the same burnt, bitter, grieving notes as his sister's, though not nearly as sharp. He was observant, and Peter decided that there probably wasn't much the kid missed. He studied Peter with the same look Erzsi had, like he was rifling through his soul. It sounded dramatic, but it was the only way Peter could describe it.

He saw the glance Stiles threw at Elze when he caught sight of Peter as they left the entrance. Stiles, it seemed, was just as protective of his sister as she was of him. He could work with that.

Working with 'rival' packs could be tricky. Every interaction was dependant on the bonds and boundaries of individuals and packs themselves. What your relationship was to the pack, your pack's standing with the pack, your relationship with specific members, both who you were dealing with and not, their relationships, how the Alpha's themselves got along, it was all connected. Not being aware of another's pack bonds and overstepping could have severe consequences.

Peter knew Elze wasn't a wolf, but he figured the same approach applied here. He could be friends with Elze, but being aware of her family and her relationship with them was vital. Stiles was protective of Elze, and Peter couldn't deny that he was also. They shared a goal, but Peter couldn't overstep and take over from Stiles. He doubted the third-grader would appreciate it, and if he didn't like Peter, there were going to be issues. Elze was protective of Stiles, so he would have to be as well. In a pack situation, Peter would treat someone in Stiles's position as an equal. Despite being twice the boy's age, Peter would have to do the same here.

He held out a hand once the siblings were close enough with a slight smile, a real one. "I'm Peter. Nice to meet you."

Stiles just nodded and shook his hand, still studying Peter before he suddenly turned to Elze. "Does this mean we don't have to take the bus anymore?" he asked hopefully.

Peter struggled to hold in a laugh at the kid's bluntness. He could tell Elze was visibly trying not to roll her eyes. It was rude, but Peter could see the logic jump the boy had made. He had brought Elze yesterday, he had today, and he bet the kid knew more than Elze thought he did about yesterday and Peter's role in it. He jumped in before Elze could berate him. "As long as your sister lets me, I'm more than happy to give you a lift."

"It's out of your way," Elze argued. Peter was learning that Stilinski's didn't like to accept help.

"What's the point of me having a car if I don't use it?" Peter asked. "It's ten minutes out of my way. I'm not that busy." He turned back to Stiles. "You good with that Stiles?" If it were David or one of the other boys, Peter probably would've called him kid, but that wouldn't encouraging equal footing.

Stiles nodded after a minute. "Yeah. Thank you. The bus sucks." Peter hid a grin as he climbed into the car.

Stiles, Peter found out after Elze asked him about his day, was a chatterbox. While Elze's processing seemed to be internal, Stiles was clearly the opposite. Instead of it annoying him, Peter found it entertaining. It wasn't mindless chatter. There was a flow to Stiles's thought process. Elze's didn't seem to have any trouble following it, and Peter found himself trying to find the links between the apparently random pieces of information rushing through their heads. Once he realised this was probably how Elze thought, he found it to be more of a mental game, a challenge, rather than an irritation of being left out.

When he pulled up to the hospital, intending on just dropping them off, Stiles told him they needed to go to visitor parking. "Mom will want to meet you," he said matter-of-factly.

Peter was lost of words. There was nothing stopping him from meeting Mrs Stilinski, but he wasn't sure why Stiles wanted him to go when he'd only known Elze for two days, less than, really. He twisted slightly to look at the kid, who was sitting behind Elze. "She always insists on meeting our friends. Something about welcoming them in the home or something." Stiles clearly didn't think too much into why his mother wanted to meet their friends, it was just a given that she would.

Peter looked at Elze. "Well, usually we brought them home. Or well, Stiles did..." She trailed off. The reason clearly meant something different to her than it did Stiles, and Peter realised it was because they wouldn't be welcomed into the home, rather, Mrs Stilinski's hospital room.

"Up to you."

Elze let her head thud on the headrest. "You may as well, if you have time. She'll nag me about it once Stiles tells her until I do."

Stiles snorted. "I already did yesterday while Dad was talking to you."

Elze let her head fall forward with a groan. "Thanks, Stiles."

Peter texted Talia as they walked inside the hospital. One of the nurses at the desk greeted them. The Stilinskis were well known by the staff from the look of things.

"Anything I should know about your mom?" Peter asked in the elevator as they ascended to the long-term ward. "You know, as your boyfriend meeting your parents and all?" He joked, trying to be tactful in asking about Mrs Stilinski's mental state.

Stiles stared at them. "You're not dating," he said. Peter wasn't sure if he was just stating a fact, his horror, or his disapproval.

"Inside joke," Elze said placatingly.

"Don't tell Cora and Malia," Peter said. He did not beg.

Stiles frowned. "Why would I tell them a joke that I don't get and also isn't funny?"

"Because they _would_ find it funny," Peter said

Stiles shrugged and walked out of the elevator. "Cora doesn't like me anyway. She's mean this year."

Peter looked as Elze in askance as they follow behind him.

"Stiles was friends with her and Malia," Elze said reluctantly, "But Cora's keeping him distant, and not in the 'boys have cooties' sort of way. She wasn't like this last year. Sorry, I know she's your niece."

Peter waved her off. The need for secrecy in the pack had always been emphasised, more so now that almost the entire youngest generation of Hales was beginning to shift. Keeping their developing senses and strength a secret from humans didn't mean they couldn't coexist with them. Cora, unfortunately, seemed to think that the only way to keep themselves safe was by attempting to isolate themselves since they'd heard of various attacks over the past several months. Apparently, she had an Argent girl in her grade this year. Trey was in the fifth grade, so he was fairly independent. Malia, on the other hand, seemed to have gotten roped into Cora's behaviour. They were in different grades though, so hopefully, it wouldn't keep up for long.

"Just because she's my niece doesn't mean she's faultless," he said. "She's extremely loyal, but to the point that she can be domineering. She doesn't trust easy. I'll mention it to Talia. Cora's, well, Cora. Malia's quite open though. I'd be surprised if she had an issue with Stiles."

"He's only ever had good things to say about her And Cora, up until now. She used to eat lunch with them. Now she drags Malia off somewhere." Elze agreed.

Stiles had gone into a room on the right side of the hallway. 

"There's nothing to be worried about, yet," Elze said. "She gets a little confused sometimes. Like she forgets things she just did. She hadn't lost major memories yet. It's more recent, day-to-day stuff. They're trying to get her used to a routine, but it's not vital quite yet. She more here for monitoring the disease progression."

"Elze, stop lurking and introduce your friend," a woman's voice called out into the hall, warm and inviting. Peter followed Elze into the room. Almost immediately, he could smell the bitter-burnt sent he was coming to associate with Stilinskis.

Mrs Stilinski sat on the bed. She wasn't wearing a hospital gown, but normal clothes. There was equipment in the corner, but she wasn't hooked up to any of it. The room was homey, with lots of personal touches to it. Stiles got his looks from his mother. "Well, come on in," she said, beckoning. "I don't bite." 

Peter couldn't help but smile. There was something that drew him into her. It was malicious, but it wasn't human. Nothing screamed at him that this was dangerous, no prickling in the back of his neck. Alex had taught him to trust his instincts, that they could recognize danger better and faster than logic could.

"Mrs Stilinski," he said holding out his hand like he had Stiles. But this wasn't a handshake to put them on equal ground, but deference of respect. As strong as it was here, he finally recognized what the burnt smell was.

_Magic._

Talia, Alex, and his mother all smelled similar when they came back from emissary meetings. Peter had never met their emissary, he wouldn't until Talia deemed him mature enough. Unless things with the hunters came to a head, in which case they might all meet him so they would know where to run for healing. The Argent Clan knew better than to go after magic-users, even if that couldn't be said of all hunters. It was simply understood that while emissaries would demonstrate allegiance to a particular pack, they weren't exactly a part of it, and could refuse or help anyone. Plus, Peter was pretty sure some idiot Argent had gotten himself cursed and it forced a healthy respect for the druid community. Plus, they really only had a personal problem with werewolves these days.

As he recognized she was a magician, Mrs Stilinski seemed to notice what he was as she shook his hand. "You're one of Talia's, aren't you?" she asked, a smile playing on her face, still friendly. It wasn't really a question. She clearly knew the answer, especially if Stiles had told her his full name.

"Yes, ma'am. Peter Hale."

"You're her youngest brother, right? She spoke very highly of you last time we caught up. Said you were growing to be a fine a young man. She was right."

Peter blushed. He still wasn't used to Talia's praise.

Things weren't always easy like they were now between him and his sister. While his brothers had grown up with Talia as simply the eldest, Peter had only known her as his Alpha, a second, unwanted mother. The tension had only grown worse when Peter had been held back a year in middle school. The feelings of inadequacy and disappointment had only grown. Peter had been determined to be the best that he could, to not make mistakes.

Then Derek had shifted for the first time the summer after his twelfth birthday. They had all been playing out in the yard, and Peter had made a teasing remark that he couldn't even remember now. Derek hadn't liked it, and the next thing Peter knew, brown eyes flashed gold. It wasn't that Derek's shift wasn't expected at some point, Peter himself had shifted for the first time just before his thirteenth birthday, it just caught them completely off guard with the suddenness of it. Peter hadn't even thought before he put himself between Derek and the younger boys, none of whom were even close to shifting yet. His nephew was scared, angry (which usually triggered the first shift) and lashing out, and the boys were in his way. Peter had gotten dozens of deep gashes across his chest for making himself a barrier to hold off Derek while Aaron ran for help.

Talia had been furious, asking what the hell he was thinking. Peter had been honest and defensive, shouting back that was thinking he couldn't let Derek hurt the boys, for Derek's sake and to keep them safe. Peter's youngest nephew, Marshall, had been five at the time and barely a yard away.

Alex had said something to Talia at that point, what exactly, Peter never knew, and things had begun to change. Peter had started training to take over from Alex that summer, and gradually, he and Talia began to understand each other more. The pack still thought that peace between them would blow up at some point.

Mrs Stilinski laughed at his face. "I don't expect you to answer to that, Peter. Talia said you were shy."

Peter ducked his head. What was wrong with him? If it were anyone other than Talia talking about him, he wouldn't care.

"It's nice to meet you. Elze hardly ever brings friends home. Thank you for giving them a ride."

Knowing Mrs Stilinski's background, Peter had a feeling home meant something more than just where you lived, but he didn't press. He had no idea how much Elze and Stiles knew, and in his experience, Peter thought it was always best with an unknown to assume they knew nothing. Until you found out otherwise, then you acted as if they knew everything.

"Not a problem, Mrs Stilinski."

But the look in her eye told Peter that is wasn't just a simple lift she was referring to. The look also told him not to push it. Claudia Stilinski was dangerous, even while ill.

* * *

Peter left before Deputy Stilinski got off work. That had been Claudia's, as she insisted on being called, request. Apparently, Stiles had said something about Peter from the day before and they ended up explaining the whole story, and Claudia decided that it wouldn't be a great idea to throw one more thing at her husband, something about having a rough couple days at work.

So Peter headed home, bracing himself for another confrontation with his family. Except, it wasn't the girls waiting for him; it was his three older brothers. Peter didn't bother holding in a groan. Talia was the oldest, followed by Jacob, Philip, Seth, and finally, Peter, who surprised everyone twenty years later. They were all sitting on the porch, and as Peter drove up, Samuel, Talia's husband, stepped out the front door to join them.

"Oh joy."

Samuel didn't have a grin on his face, so Peter hoped he was on his side. Jacob, however, was grinning like an idiot, and Peter fully expected payback from his comment yesterday. His oldest brother never married but had had an affair with a were-coyote about a decade before that had ended very badly with Corrine Tate and resulted in Malia. He loved Malia deeply, but Jacob was not someone Peter would ever go to for romantic advice for.

Neither would he go to Philip, who had carried on some fling or other with wolves from other packs, their own pack when he was younger, and lately, Peter was fairly sure he didn't want to know, one-night stands.

Seth wasn't too bad. He was married and had four children. However, as Peter was the youngest, Seth was going to tease him, simply because it was 'the natural order of things.'

"Huh," Jacob said. "I wouldn't expect her scent to be as strong today as it was yesterday, unless..."

"He was spending more time with her?" Seth suggested. He was drinking coffee, so Peter guessed he was working night shift again at the sheriff's department. Hopefully, Seth's nose wouldn't put two and two together if Elze had been in proximity with her father today.

Philip gasped in mock surprise as Peter stood unimpressed at the bottom of the porch steps. "Our Peter, who has sworn off all girls for eternity? Impossible!"

Peter ignored them and focused on Samuel. "It's my turn to help with dinner tonight, so..." It was true, actually. Peter and the others each had a night to set the table and/or cook. Every week they drew a night. Peter usually had four-year-old Gwen, Seth and May's youngest, help him.

"Go on," Samuel said. "You can heckle him at dinner."

That didn't stop the comments his brothers called after him into the house, including Philip's "Is she a good kisser?"

Gwendoline gave him a pitying look as he trapped into the kitchen.

"I tried to stop them."

"Clearly it was a token gesture."

She shot him a look. "Let them have their fun, then it'll be out of their systems if you ever bring her here."

Peter dropping the knives he was holding back into the drawer and stared at his mother. "Why the hell would I bring her here?" The Hales didn't bring anyone to the house unless everyone 'unpredictable' was out of the way. "Forget Derek and Lyn, the twins could start shifting any day now, and you want to bring Elze into that?" Fourteen-year-old Lyn was in middle school and had started shifting eight months ago, making her slightly unpredictable, though not as bad as Derek. The twins were thirteen.

Gwen's look turned sly. "Elze?"

"Don't change the subject. For the love of everything beautiful and sane, why would I invite her here?"

"You think you'll be able to hide what you are forever? Do you want to lie to her for as long as you know her? More to the point, do you think she won't figure it out? Claudia Stilinski's a damn Spark! I know you know something's up."

Peter could count on one hand the number of time he's ever head his mother swear. That was the fourth. That almost distracted him from everything else she said. "A Spark? They don't exist. They're just stories."

Gwen snorted. "Tell that to them. You'd believe it if you saw some of the things I've seen her do."

Sparks, or so the legends went, carried their power through sheer belief. In theory, it meant your power was as strong as your will was. Peter had known Claudia had some sort of power, but he had assumed along the lines of a druid.

Gwen shot him a disapproving look. "Please don't tell me you didn't notice. I know you met her today. You smell like Talia when she goes and meets with Deaton."

Peter shook his head. "No, I did. I just didn't know she was a Spark. I didn't think they existed. Do you think Elze knows?"

Gwen turned back to the stove. "I'd be highly surprised if she didn't. Apparently, it's hereditary. I don't know how well-trained she is. I also don't know how much she knows about you. I have no idea how much Claudia's told her about us, or if she figured you out on her own."

"Did you know who she was when I told you about her yesterday?"

"She called me this morning," a new voice said. Talia was standing in the doorway. "Why don't we continue this after dinner? The kids will be coming in soon, and I don't think they need to hear all of this."

Peter nodded. It really wasn't a conversation he wanted everyone in the house to hear.

His brothers seemed to have overheard enough from the porch, or maybe Talia said something, because they didn't follow through on their promise to heckle him over dinner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters once a week. At least until I get a job...
> 
> Pack Recap: I will be adding this periodically to help you all keep track of the Hale pack as I add them, and how they all relate into each other. In my headcannon, the Hales have been protecting the Nemeton since it was discovered in the early 1800s, establishing themselves in California in 1812. So there are various descendants of both Hales, and wolves who were bitten and joined the pack over two centuries. 
> 
> In this universe, because Peter is younger, Malia is the daughter of his brother Jacob and Corrine.
> 
> Tasha Schirmer a born wolf who is the granddaughter of Alex Schirmer, the pack's current Left Hand bitten by Ashley Hale. Lyn Schirmer is her younger sister. She was held back a year due to her grades.  
> Theresa Armstrong is a born wolf who is the granddaughter of Zoe Hayward, bitten by Ashley Hale.  
> The twins I mentioned are also descendants of Zoe. Also due to my crazy family tree and some marriages, all of the above save Malia are cousins.  
> Seth's wife, May, is Zoe's youngest, but didn't inherit the wolf-gene.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR KUDOS. I know it doesn't seem like much, but it's like, "Hey, someone doesn't think I'm wasting my time!" Comments are like the Nobel Prize. What do you want to see, what do you want to happen?


	4. Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full moons could be the most freeing time for a wolf. Control and balance. Unless you were Derek. In which case full moons were a constant battle. And Peter is essentially stuck babysitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, to the two people who left comments before I screwed up my chapters and they disappeared, thank you so much. I don't remember your names, but I really appreciated it. Whoever left the comment last month/December, it honestly encouraged me to get back on track with this story.

**August 16th 2003**

The full moon in August was known as the Red Moon. Why? Peter could only guess. A lot of people had died aeons ago? A red tide? Or maybe someone was just picking colours out of a hat and it stuck, because, in Peter's limited experience, moons were rarely red, nor were said red moons restricted to August. It was on a Saturday this month, meaning everyone was actually arriving throughout the day beforehand.

The Hale House was normally home to fifteen pack members; Peter, his mother, sister, three brothers, Talia's husband, Seth's wife, and his eight nieces and nephews, and there was room to spare for more. With only the wolves staying over the weekend in addition to the regular residents, over thirty people were crammed into the house, and that wasn't the entire pack, which numbered at forty-one. It was the largest the Hale pack had ever been and was one of the larger packs on the Western seaboard. Most of the other packs in California were less than half the Hale's size.

In the summer, the pack gathered outside in the yard. There was the usual mix of Hales, Haywards, and Schirmers all over the place. The Blakesleys wouldn't be along until this evening; Conner taught football in Sebastopol and they practised on Saturdays. Theresa Armstrong and her mother would come after Tyra closed the Library at noon.

Peter was in the kitchen helping Paula with food. The oldest member of their pack insisted they all know how to cook, and Peter liked being around her.

He held in a snicker as Paula did some shuffling dance across the kitchen to the reggae music she'd popped into the CD player. Peter had never known her to play any other music his whole life. And while there was something amusing in watching the awkward dance movies of an old lady in a hideously striped and beaded t-shirt, Peter would never, ever, risk his life by laughing at her. He'd asked once how old she was when he was four and she'd whacked him with the walking stick she didn't need. Apparently, it was rude to ask how old someone was even though that was the first thing old people asked when they met kids.

She shot him a look that told him she knew exactly what he was thinking behind his composure. "Alex hasn't taught you all his tricks yet," she muttered. She had easily been the strongest member of Ashley's pack before he'd been killed by a hunter when Peter was a year old.

She was also one of the best trackers Peter had met. She's taught all of them how to use their noses growing up, how to hide, where, and most importantly, the  _why_ behind it. She thought like a hunter and showed them all how to catch them off guard by doing the unexpected. " _Hide and Heal_ ," was her motto if something went wrong. A wounded wolf is easily followed, and while lone wolves sometimes didn't last long, better you then the rest of the pack because you did something stupid. Despite how stern her lessons were, she was always approachable. There were many times Peter wondered why she stepped down as Right Hand and let his mother take over.

Paula suddenly stuck something under his nose. "Smell," she instructed. Peter winced but did as he was told. Who knew what she was concocting.

"Vanilla," he said as he caught a whiff of the almost sickly sweet smell. Thank god most of their toiletries were scentless, or they'd all have headaches. "What are we making?"

"Poundcake." She stuck something else under his nose.

Peter batted it away. "Use your own nose. You're not as old as you tell everyone you are." She claimed to be fifty-three. Why? Peter didn't know why Paula did most of what she did, such as dying her hair so badly. He found it best to just stay out of the way and let her get on with it.

"My nose won't always be around. You boys should know how to cook. Now smell."

"I can _see_ that it's sugar."

"Yes, but what kind of sugar?"

Peter stared at her. "Brown, or are you going blind now too?"

Paula huffed, swinging her long, blonde braid over her shoulder and putting a hand on her hip. "Boy, you know that brown sugar does not go in a pound cake."

"Then why were you shoving it up my nose?" Peter didn't bother responding to her calling him 'boy.' He might be almost nineteen, but Peter knew the only person not in Paula's generation who didn't get called by some term of youth, was Talia.

"To see if you were paying attention."

"I was."

"I asked if you were reading my romance-thriller and you said yes. Forgive my doubts. We agreed on apple pies last week anyway." She put the top back on the container of sugar. "What's on your mind?"

Thoughts of Elze and sparks were still racing through his head. He'd asked Talia and his mother to only tell him what he needed to know. If Elze wanted him to know more, she'd tell him. She had to know he wasn't completely human, even if she didn't know he was a werewolf, yet had never said a word. He remembered the trust she'd put into telling him her name; he wouldn't break it now at the first chance. Granted, Paula had been around long enough to probably know about the Stilinskis, but still. Principal was a thing.

"Derek," he said, honestly. The full moon was tonight, and Peter was really hoping nothing antagonized him enough to warrant locking him up in the basement. That hadn't been needed in a while, but you never knew with the emotional and angsty Derek. "Seth's in the basement," he said, which explained everything, really.

Paula frowned as she started coring apples, Peter automatically moving to begin peeling them as she passed them down. "I thought that was for the Douglas and Cyril. It's that bad still?" She had stayed with the San Francisco pack last month. There had been some sort of altercation and Paula helped with one of their wounded wolves. "I thought last month was better."

Peter sighed. July had been better. Free of school and the constant need for control, the pack children were able to loosen the tight restraint they constantly held. Derek and Lyn didn't have as much easy experience moving back and forth between the two states, making the transition into and from a full shift even harder for them both. "Something happened at school yesterday. I don't know what; he won't talk to me about it yet. Now he's... antsy."

Really, it was ridiculous. Derek shouldn't even have to worry about being stuck in the basement at this point, more than two years after his first shift. Normally, it was only a precaution until they found their anchor. After that, the pack would keep them in line during runs to make sure no one got hurt. Derek was barely at that stage on the full moon, unable to find an anchor. And he was only getting frustrated at the younger Lyn's apparent ease, and everyone else's for that matter. Peter dreaded when Cora started shifting, hoping it wasn't a family trend. Laura had been easy.

"The twins being down there won't help. At all."

Peter rubbed his face. "I know. It'll ruin any progress he's made since Lyn. I need to keep him away from Riley tonight too." Riley had started shifting at eleven, younger than Derek, but at the same age had perfect control. It was another reminder for Derek, but instead of pushing him to get better, it made him worse. "Everyone's just going to have to keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't do something completely stupid."

"You're sure the boys will shift?"

Peter nodded. "Pretty sure. All their uncles are keeping an eye on them. They've been erratic, for lack of a better term. Douglas especially." After Derek had caught everyone off guard, Peter had paid closer attention to all of the children, noting signs of aggression and increased senses. He was normally right in his estimates, even if there were only five other young wolves to go off of.

"What's the plan for them?"

"Aaron's going to stay in the basement with them with Sam and Conner." Bitten wolves usually had a harder time finding their anchor, not having grown up with it. If anyone could be patient with the twins' inevitable struggle, it would be those who'd had the worst themselves, and Conner and Sam were the only younger members who fit the bill. Aaron was taking Peter's  usual place since he would be keeping an eye on Derek.

"Are they here yet?"

"Nope. _Football_ practice takes forever because it's inefficient." Peter spat out the sport jokingly. Football wasn't basketball. The only reason Conner got a pass for coaching was that it was the sport he'd always played before joining the pack. And by 'pass,' really, no one brought it up since Aaron had to stop playing after his first, extremely late, shift last August. Peter was still proud for calling it when everyone else thought he wasn't actually a born wolf, just inherited some traits from his parents.

"Well, football is better than lacrosse," Paula said

"Eh." Peter didn't want to diss it too much at the moment. Not because he didn't think Lacrosse didn't suck, but because he remembered Elze explaining to Finstock why she couldn't play this year.

"Eh?" Paula repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That I honestly can't say football is better than lacrosse because basketball is better than both of them," Peter said smoothly.

She pointed her corer at him. "Do not say that in front of Aaron or Conner. I'm not hearing that argument again. It's irritating. They have nothing new to say." 

"I'm not bringing it up at all in case Derek finds out." Peter had worked obsessively on Aaron's control so his friend could play during his senior year. The then-sixteen-year had a scary level of focus and determination. Talia had barely agreed. They'd been trying to keep the fact that he was allowed to play from Derek, who would ignore the fact that Aaron was now a more mature seventeen to Derek's emotional fourteen. Peter wasn't looking forward to when his nephew found out.

"He's going to find out eventually. And if he finds out you lied to him-"

"I haven't lied to him. Talia hasn't given an answer yet. Who knows. Maybe something miraculous will happen before October."

Paula snorted. "I was in Vietnam too long to believe in miracles." She cored the last of the apples and picked up the other peeler and began removing the skin into the large bowl Peter was using.

Peter paused. "Um. You're a werewolf? If that's not the definition of supernatural, I don't know what is."

"I wasn't praying for it to happen though, was I? It was definitely a sudden rescue." She and Alex had been caught in a building while stationed in Vietnam that was bombed. Alex, who had already been bitten had begged Ashley Hale to save the only other survivor. Paula had taken to her new life like with an ease most bitten wolves, even some born ones, only dreamed of. Peter knew the story, but Paula had never spoken of it before.

"How did you handle it?" Peter asked, curious despite the threat of him getting whacked. She wouldn't have brought it up if she didn't want to talk about it. "Suddenly being a wolf. You weren't prepared like Zoe and Alex or Sam were. Even Conner had a little notice."

Paula stopped peeling the apple, thinking. "My whole life, I was shamed for who and I was and what I was doing. I was a woman, and remember, this was around Roe versus Wade, so being a woman could go either way depending on who you were speaking to. Then I was a woman in the army. Even worse. Then, I joined the legal branch as a paralegal; not a female dominated area, let me tell you. I was one of three women in that whole training course. Then I somehow ended up in Vietnam. There weren't many women there either outside of M.A.S.H units. And everywhere I went, someone shamed me because of who I was or what I was doing. Sometimes my gender came into it, other times it didn't."

She started peeling again, a ring of flesh dangling from the apple as she concentrated on not breaking the ribbon as she glided the peeler around the apple. "When your father bit me, and all this power I had never imaged was rushing through me, I felt magnificent. And running with him and Alex, it was the best feeling in the world. It got even better when I came here. And I refused to show shame for something I should only feel pride for. We have to hide so much of ourselves to the world. But I refuse to feel shame for doing what I have to in order to keep the rest of the world safe. I refuse to be ashamed of my strength. I'm proud of what I am and what I do."

The long ribbon of apple peal finally dropped into the bowl. Paula looked at him. "Why? Are you thinking about the boys?"

She switched topics effortlessly, redirecting attention from herself and on what she used. Pride versus shame. Not from what she was saying, but her importance in relation to it.

"You're saying Derek feels ashamed? Because he doesn't have control?"

"I'm saying that I think Derek is conflicted with different emotions that he doesn't know what to think. He can't focus. He's uncertain of his place. But I think that feeling is due more to the stuff in his own head than other people's actions." She picked up another apple and began peeling it. "I need to talk to Talia," she said to herself.

Peter didn't respond. Talia had asked him to keep an eye on Derek, but he had a feeling the only person who could make him more certain of his place in the pack was Talia herself. Peter knew that from experience. Paula seemed to know it too.

"Peter," Paula said after several minutes of silence and a few more apples each. "If you learn nothing else, learn this; self-doubt causes as many downfalls as overconfidence."

"Are you warning me, or Derek?" Peter asked.

Paula didn't answer, and Peter knew better than to push.

* * *

He shouldn't have been surprised when Derek came and found him that evening. Peter was usually the first person Derek went to when he had a problem. Anyone younger wasn't good for advice, the only ones who were the same age as him were girls. Aaron wasn't around as often as he'd like to be, leaving Peter as either the 'oldest kid' or 'most approachable adult,' he wasn't sure which. He currently inhabited that strange place where he didn't feel like either. Being the oldest by a year in his grade didn't help, though most people in his class didn't realise it since his grades hadn't held him back. Something had been eating at Derek all day. It was just a question of when he would ask Peter for advice. Peter was definitely more an older brother than an uncle.

He was sitting with David at one of the tables outside on the patio after dessert, hours yet before sunset and moonrise. The younger boy was showing Peter a sketch he was working on for his art class when Derek came up, lingering at the table. Peter didn't send David away; he'd leave soon enough when he got bored, and the kid didn't always get much attention with all his younger siblings in elementary school. He was right when the twins called him ten minutes later to take down Aaron in some game. They had until 10 o'clock to work some energy out. Even David who hadn't shifted yet was feeling the effects.

Derek still just lingered near the table. "What's up?"

"The sky."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to be helpful. I could go save Aaron instead if you'd rather."

Derek rolled his eyes before casting a look towards the rest of the pack scattered around. "Can we go somewhere else?"

Peter had known that was coming too. Another reason he didn't bother to make David leave. He stood up instead of answering, mock-groaning as he stretched and motioned Derek on. They ended up at the front of the house where all of the cars were parked. Peter leaned against the garage that really only served to hold everything members of the pack weren't using, from furniture to clothes, to winter gear. With forty people contributing, there really wasn't a whole lot of room to move around inside, but it saved some money when it came to clothing.

"What's bugging you?"

Derek had taken a basketball and was the bouncing it against the wall. He didn't say anything for a moment that stretched out.

Peter sighed and banged his head against the wall. "Derek, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Derek glared at him, sighed, then blurted out: "What do you do when you like a girl?"

_Oh shit._

It was yet another thing Peter should have expected and was caught completely off guard by. Peter and Aaron were close to two years apart but both seniors. They'd gone through almost everything together. Derek was the oldest of his nephews, and the first to ask this sort of question, so Peter really wasn't sure how to respond.

"That's why you've been sulking the last two days?" He really hadn't been sulking, and antagonising him tonight wasn't Peter's best idea. However, he had learned that the reactions where Derek wasn't able to think prior to giving were the most honest, and he needed _all_ of the information right now.

"It's a big deal, Peter! You know how they act with you and that girl at school!" _Ok, that was fair. His brothers would have a field day._

"Ok, yes, you'd get teased, but it's really not the end of the world. I recall you doing just that on Thursday, actually." He paused. "This isn't because I said you've never had a girlfriend, is it?"

"No!" Derek practically snarled. Then he calmed after a moment. "And says the guy who refuses to date in the first place because he's a werewolf."

Peter looked away trying to gain control of the conversation that had suddenly become about him.

"Ok, we're not talking about me, we're talking about you. Even if we were, that's not the entire reason, but we can get into that later so I'm not misunderstood. What exactly are you asking me?" Peter held out in hands in a 'well?' gesture. "And does she have a name by the way? Or are we just going to refer to her as 'the girl?'"

"No," Derek replied sullenly.

"No, she doesn't have a name?"

"I don't know what it is."

 _This is easier to handle._ Derek didn't know the girl, he just thought she was pretty. Unless she did something in class.

"Well, what class are you sharing?"

"We don't," he muttered."

"You don't share any classes? Please don't tell me you're stalking her." Likely, Derek had caught her scent. It wasn't unlike a hunt in the woods, though they usually didn't bother killing anything. It sounded extremely creepy, however. She just stood out and attracted Derek's attention, and combined with hormones, his nephew couldn't differentiate between interest and a crush. Though, for a wolf, Peter figured those were about the same thing in cases regarding such.

"No, I saw her during orchestra practice. She plays the cello."

Peter really wanted to bang his head against the wall again. "Just to let you know, unless you don't already realise, you sound like an absolute creep." Peter pinched his nose instead of banging his head. "Let me get this straight since you still haven't asked me a question. You saw a girl you think is pretty, and you, what, exactly? Need instructions on how to introduce yourself? They teach you that in kindergarten. Preschool, actually. We can ask May to be sure."

"I can't focus!" Derek shouted.

_If Derek's admitting it, this is really bad._

Peter sighed, regardless of Derek's recognition. He should know how to handle stuff like this by now. As much as he loved Derek, it was really getting old.

He spread his arms in a lost gesture. "You do it the same way you always do. You breathe, you draw on the pack, and you determine the outcome. Clear your head and pay attention to one thing. One thing that reminds you why we stay human." Peter didn't know how many times he'd told Derek some variant of the same speech over the years. He forced some pity to his expression. "Derek, you don't even know her name. Once you know her as a person, sure you've got more of an excuse to be distracted, but until then, get her out of your head. Don't give things a spot in your mind until they earn their place there. Focus on what already has a spot."

Derek still looked confused and desperate and not anywhere close to even attempting to do as he was told.

Peter slid down so he could sit with his back against the garage again, and patted the ground next to him. "Sit down."

_Time to see if this is a good idea or not._

Derek scoffed and looked like he was about to walk off.

"Derek, sit down. I'm not going to crane my neck if I don't need to."

Once Derek was finally, Peter looked him in the eye. "I'm going to tell you what I told your mother, and if you're going to get mad at anyone, do not be mad at her, be mad at me, ok?" He didn't continue until Derek finally nodded. "I told Talia that you're angry because you can't find an anchor, which is only making you angrier. See how that turns into a vicious cycle?"

Peter waved his hand in a 'go on' motion when Derek didn't say anything. "I need a yes or no, Derek. Do you understand what I just said?"

Derek forced a nod. "So what do I do?" Derek looked more confused and frustrated than outright angry.

"What are the two things in that cycle?"

Derek looked at him like he was an idiot.

Peter just shrugged, unaffected. "You clearly need this stuff broken down and spoonfed to you. And this isn't going to work if you don't understand what I'm trying to explain. What are the two things in that cycle?"

"No anchor and anger," he said.

"Right. And what do you have?"

Now Derek was actually glaring. He'd made his point with the patronising.

"Don't glare, you're face will get stuck that way. Stop acting like a child. Marshall could figure this out, and he's human and five. If you don't have an anchor, Derek, what do you have? You don't even need math for this."

"Anger."

"Exactly. You have it. You can't ignore it, you can't pretend it isn't there. So you've got two options, you either get rid of it, which, given the cycle, probably isn't going to happen as it hasn't already. Or you can focus on it."

Derek frowned. "What do you mean?" Derek had only known the mantra.  _Alpha, Beta, Omega._ He'd likely never thought of anything else.

"Turn your anger into your anchor, and that eliminates the cycle. You concentrate on it. What it makes you feel, what it stops you from doing. Our anger is stronger than a human's. You focus on that emotion, not your wolf. Focus on the strongest thing linking you to your humanity."

"How will that stop me from getting out of control?"

"Hate to break it to you, but you're already out of control." Peter waved Derek off when he opened his mouth to protest and talked over him. "We get you to a point where you can learn to focus, on something, anything. Get you anchored. Then we shift your anchor before you go and rip someone's throat out. At this point we really don't have anything to lose, wouldn't you say?"

Derek looked at the ground, not meeting Peter's eyes, out of shame, Peter guessed, but nodded.

"Did Mom agree?"

"I wouldn't be having this conversation with you if she hadn't." A couple year ago that might have been different, but it really didn't matter in the scheme of things. Derek might actually learn some control. Peter put his hand under Derek's chin and tilted his face up. "Hey, it doesn't matter what you haven't done up until this point. What matters is that we're going to fix it. Ok?"

* * *

Peter had hugged each of the twins, nudging his nose to their necks to reassure them, before joining the rest of the pack outside. They would start running as soon as it was dark. The full moon would rise about twenty minutes later. They would be deep within the reserve by then. Talia didn't think any hunters would be out, but their Alpha erred on the side of caution.

Derek was running in between him and Alex, looking pensive. Peter didn't blame him. They were attempting something totally new that could backfire spectacularly. Alex had seen similar approaches taken by werewolf soldiers during the war. He told Peter it could go either way. A lot depended on external circumstances. Luckily, they weren't in a warzone. That could only help.

For a few minutes, Peter stopped worrying about his nephew and his friend, instead, he opened himself up to the pack bonds around him. Everyone was connected, the stronger bonds, like Talia, his mother, Derek, Aaron, and Alex, more present in his mind. It wasn't telepathy, but it was an _awareness_. The elation of his pack as the wind rushes over the faces and across their bodies, the sense of chaotic peace that was pack. The emotions associated with everyone's anchors. The joy at the call of the moon. The beating of hearts rushing with blood as they raced through the forest.

Peter knew his eyes were glowing Beta gold, like Derek's next to him. If he looked over at Alex, he would see the brilliant ice blue. Peter didn't know whether the change came from some metaphysical sense of justice or one's own guilt. Alex never spoke of it.

There was a shard of moonlight shining through a gap in the trees, and as Peter ran through it, he could feel the claws on his fingers pushing through and his teeth sharpening and growing. He breathed in the scent of pack, and let go, allowing the shift to take over, trusting himself and his pack.

He could sense Derek running next to him, and he stayed close, but not attached as the younger boy speed up to tackle Laura, probably payback for some comment she made earlier.

It could have been hours later as timeless as the moon made things, but internally Peter knew it was minutes, he felt two of the pack bonds in the back of his mind snap into place. The twins had shifted, together as always. Douglas first, and Cyril so close behind it was hard to differentiate.

A little ways behind him, Peter could smell the pride from Quint as his sons pack bonds grew stronger as if snapping into the correct place when they'd been loose before. Ahead, Talia, leading the way as a great black wolf rose her head and howled in welcome. The wolves back at the house would hear it. Through his bond with Aaron, Peter could sense amusement in a throng of other emotions, including worry, and he guessed his friend was a little overwhelmed. It was different watching a first shift after you had your own. Peter couldn't help but call out with the others. This was what pack was.

It was different from younger, mostly bitten packs, when the full moon was a time of tight restraint. In born, long-established packs like the Hales, the full moon was the time to let your instincts free, trusting the pack to help you retain your humanity. Talia would partner with different members all night, nudging younger members to the centre of the group when they strayed, helping older wolves reinforce their anchors with a reminder to lean on the pack. Control was vital, but control to maintain a balance, not your humanity alone.

Peter snarled playfully as his sister butted her head into his legs whenever she passed. She'd join up with him eventually. For now, Peter kept pace with Derek. They'd been keeping him in the centre of the group, separate from Lyn running with the high school aged girls.

Peter tensed when he heard the thudding behind him. His brothers had doubled around to tackle him from behind. They wouldn't be rough, but it was two, no three against one. The humans weren't running tonight, so Seth clearly had nothing better to do while May was back at the house with their children. Alex kept Derek close as Peter veered off to the side to avoid hitting anyone.

As Philip jumped him, Peter sensed more than saw the blur that was Owen colliding with Seth and Jacob. Peter didn't quite manage to duck, and he and his older brother went down in a heap and rolled several yards. Peter threw Philip off before they stopped moving, pushing himself into a crouch. Before Philip could react, Quint landed on top of him, teaming up with Owen. It was now the Hayward brothers against his own, and Peter really just wanted to get out of the way now the attention was off of him. He darted between Philip and Quint wrestling and the pile that was Seth and Owen to reach Alex and Derek again.

He could sense Jacob behind him, and Peter stopped suddenly, catching the older man off guard and managing to trip him with a kick to his knee that unbalanced him. Peter bared his teeth victoriously at his brother, then speed away to catch up with the bulk of the pack. The others would catch up once they finished their mock fight. Alex glanced at him, amusement rolling off of him, and a hint of pride. Alex had been teaching him how to fight against numbers. It wasn't a real battle, but it was impromptu and he'd reacted well. Peter preened a little under the subtle praise, before nudging Derek and running faster, challenging him to keep up.

While Derek had started out relaxed, a few hours later, Peter could feel the fraying control and Derek began to struggle to keep his wolf from taking over. It wasn't even halfway through the night yet.

He drew closer to the boy, retracting his claws and reaching out to touch his shoulder, a physical link. Beta gold eyes locked. Peter could see the panic in Derek's eyes, and they slowed to a stop, letting the pack overtake them, Talia lingered, then approached herself, sitting nearby their feet. Peter forced his wolf back, letting his features shift back until it was only his eyes still glowing in the dark.

"Focus on what makes you human, Derek."

Derek snarled, eyes narrowing. Peter reached out again, but Derek grabbed his wrist, claws digging into his skin. Talia started at Peter's wince and the tang of blood in the air and growled a warning softly, but Peter held up his free hand, forcing away the pain. "I'm ok." Peter hoped his voice was steadier than he felt, not moving his eyes from Derek. The punctures would heal quickly, but they did hurt, throbbing in pain in time with his heartbeat.

The growl had gotten Derek's attention, breaking through the haze that Peter imagined was his mind at the moment. His eyes flickered to his mother. Talia was calm, but her stance brokered no argument. Derek was to back down. Derek wouldn't fight his Alpha if she forced the issue, but the point wasn't to force Derek into submission; it was to teach him control.

"Focus, Derek," Peter instructed quietly. The rest of the pack had either run much further ahead or were waiting just out of sight tensely. The forest was silent, but that might have been Peter isolating everything in front of him blocking out everything irrelevant.

Gradually, so slowly to begin with Peter didn't notice, Derek pulled his claws away from Peter's skin. His face slowly began shifting back, protruding bones smoothing into a human face. Derek's eyes didn't stop glowing as he suddenly doubled over, breathing hard. Talia practically bolted forward now, rubbing her face against her son's. Peter crouched down and mussed Derek's hair with his clean hand, ignoring the blood dripping down his left. "Good job." He grinned when Derek stared at him disbelievingly. "I mean it."

"I couldn't do it," Derek gasped out, still trying to breathe normally.

"Alone. That's what pack is for; when you can't do it alone. We're always there. And you'll get there. Point is, you regained control."

Talia growled in agreement, pushing Derek to stand up.

Peter held out his non-bloodied hand. "Ready to run again?"

Derek nodded shakily, eyeing Peter's managed wrist. Peter shook it off. "It's healing," he said to reassure him.

Talia yipped, then ran ahead once more, howling as she went, Peter and Derek catching up behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pack Recap:
> 
> Paula Doubek was turned by Ashley Hale in the mid-60's, and served as the pack's Right Hand until the early 90's after Talia became Alpha before Gwendoline Hale took the position.
> 
> Owen Hayward is Zoe Hayward's oldest. Quint Hayward is Zoe's third child. Douglas and Cyril are his sons. His wife is a human Hale descendant.
> 
> Author Notes:  
> The original chapters 1-2 and 3-4 have been combined, and currently, Chapter 1 is a prologue I couldn't get out of my head. So, basically, you're just going to get longer chapters every week.


	5. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter joins his first official pack meeting and meets an informant. Adán wasn't the strangest person Alex had dragged him to meet over the last two years. Really.

**August 17th 2003**

The Hale pack stayed out until sunrise without another incident, returning to the house in smaller groups of parents and children, siblings, or, in Peter's case, with his mentor. Derek had split off with his mother and sister around 5:00. Talia herself would be the very last back, checking the forest for stragglers.

It was just as quiet inside the house of werewolves at 6:30 on a Sunday morning as human ones were, when most people were either sleeping in or maybe rousing for an early church service. The children left behind were either asleep or drowsy from staying up all night. Peter's nieces being apart of the latter group and promptly sent to bed by Gwendoline when she came inside.

Sam had emerged from the basement shortly after Peter came inside, the twins following him tiredly from downstairs in clean clothes. Quint quickly moved to join them, holding them joyfully with a blinding grin. Douglas and Cyril hugged their father and leaned on him as they made their way to the den to claim an air mattress and sleep. There were guest bedrooms, but not enough for everyone, and, quite frankly, going upstairs was too much effort after a night running to the call of the moon.

Seth and his brothers came in behind the Haywards, covered in dirt. Peter laughed when May gave her husband a glare at his appearance when he tried to hug her. Little Gwen was sleeping in her arms, dead to the world in a way only exhausted toddlers could be. Seth held up his hands in defeat and poked his head into the den to check on their other three children. From where Peter stood he could just see into the room, and he saw David poke his head up before collapsing back into sleep at his father's gentle push back down.

Peter didn't tense when he felt Talia's warm hand on his neck, hearing her enter the house and sensing her approach. She was only wearing the thin, long cardigan she always wore after coming out of a full shift. "Thank you," she said softly.

Peter nodded. There was nothing to be said. Anyone would have done it, and Talia knew that, but was simply stating her gratitude that he had. She motioned to her study. "Are you too tired to talk?"

Peter shook his head and tried to hide his surprise at the invitation. From his sister's eyebrow raised in amusement, he hadn't managed it. Usually, only the older members were involved in the pack meetings with Talia after runs. Peter normally kept an eye Seth and May's youngest while the adults talked in the study. "I'll help Mom make tea." Talia would settle the twins before they spoke.

Gwendoline was already standing in front of the kettle, a collection of over a dozen mugs already lined out in front of her. There were teabags in most of them. "Which ones do you need?" Peter asked, opening the other cupboard. There really was a ridiculous amount of tea in the house.

"Talia, Seth, May, and Clayton."

Peter nodded and pulled out Talia's reishi tea. Seth liked green tea with so much honey you could barely taste the tea, which said a lot when you were a werewolf. May liked orange, and Clayton would drink anything, so he got that too since Peter had pulled it out. Everyone else was already in the study by the time they brought the two trays of steaming mugs in.

Alex motioned Peter over to sit by him after he's distributed mugs, a space clearly left for him. It was strange not leaving immediately after helping his mother. He didn't even know what pack meetings like this were like. Laura was in the corner nearest Talia next to Sam. It was her first meeting too, but from where she was sitting, Peter thought she was probably just here to listen.

"Any news from the other packs?" Owen asked. Alpha's usually tended to handle all communication between neighbouring packs in general. Talia had connections with all of the established packs in California and ties with over a dozen more across the country, not to mention the Hale branches in New York and Charlotte. She had a reputation as a negotiator, leading to more contact than normal with other packs, meaning in general, they all did.

Talia nodded. "Deucalion's requested a formal meeting." That was surprising. Talia and Deuc had been good friends for years, both becoming Alphas around the same time. Peter had met the man multiple times on his casual visits North. A formal request was serious and demanded more attention than the usual few hours drive up the coast.

Philip frowned, seeming to follow Peter's train of thought. "Deuc's calling a formal meeting? What happened?"

Talia looked worried. "Colby Dunn and Harold Myers lost contact with the Venadero Pack in San Luis Obispo. Deuc went looking in the Los Padres Forest with his own pack. They found where they were hiding. It looked like they just vanished, but they could smell wolfsbane and blood." The Dunn and Myers packs were based in Santa Maria and Santa Barbara respectively. They and the Venadero packs split up the forest between them, keeping in fairly close contact. For nearly a dozen werewolves to disappear completely without a trace was bad.

"Hunters," Seth growled. "If they're planning on multiple quick hits, they can reach any pack on the West Coast in a day's driving. And the Argents are back in town. Had to be cleared with the sheriff's department for all their weapons permits." He snorted disdainfully. "Hopefully Stilinski won't be such a push-over."

Peter perked up slightly at the name, but Talia stopped Seth with a hand and his name before he could really go off on a rant.

Seth hated hunters. Talia could tolerate them based on those who followed their 'code' of not hunting innocents. Seth could not, ever since May was attacked when she was pregnant with Gwen several years ago. And May was human. "If they were planning successive attacks they would have done it already. We know there's a risk. There always has been; we're a permanent fixture here. And we'll discuss Stilinski shortly," she said, throwing a brief glance at Peter.

"Right now, we have a gathering to prepare for. Deucalion will be coming with his pack. He wants to ask some of the other smaller packs as well."

"They're all coming here?" Alex asked, incredulously, Peter thought. "Not to restate the obvious, but the Argents are back in town. If they get a hint of more packs in the area, there's no doubt Gerard himself will get involved. And there's no reasoning with that man."

Talia didn't argue with her enforcer, betraying her unease. "I'm aware. However, Deucalion has requested I be involved, and I think it would be foolish to not attend."

"Why do you even need to be involved in an alliance between smaller packs?" Quint asked from the back of the room. "We're the largest pack in California. The Carter and Taylor packs are almost as big if we do need help, and only an hour away at most."

"That may be, however, the Argents do not differentiate between packs. And given our proximity to said Argents, I don't think it would be unwise to accept help when it is offered. Keep in mind, Quint, that a quarter of our pack is human, and nearly half are children or young wolves still learning to control the shift." Talia gestured around the room. "Seventeen werewolves are all that stands between hunters and the most vulnerable of our pack. That's the same size as the Myers Pack. Most of their members are adults. Are we really that different?"

Peter could feel the tension filling the room. Seventeen was by no mean a small pack, but the way she stated it. Talia seemed to sense the uneasiness as well. "We're not vulnerable," she said sternly, "But we aren't infallible either."

"Why not involve more packs then?" Tyra asked. "The Hunters are only getting stronger as time goes on. Technology is on their side in a way it wasn't twenty years ago. If it's that dire..."

"Working with wolves outside of our packs is not in our nature. We need to start slowly. Deucalion's always been an advocate for change. He thinks Ennis Shaw will be willing to agree to a meeting."

"Ennis?" Paula wasn't impressed. She knew most of the pack Alphas in the state. "He's volatile. I remember him when he was first turned."

"That was thirteen years ago. No one's held in a good light after their first few shifts," Talia reminded them.

"He's been an Alpha for the last seven, though," Zoe pointed out, "And he's still more than a little aggressive."

"Ennis likes a fight," Talia conceded with a sigh. "But he knows better than to pick ones he can't win, or ones that will put his pack in danger. And he's not above asking for help, either. That means he's more open than some. He just wants to keep his pack safe." 

"Do you have anyone else in mind?" Owen asked.

Talia shook her head. "If Ennis agrees, Deuc might ask him to see if Kali D'Cruz is interested."

Alex snorted at that. "Kali doesn't give a damn about anyone outside of her own pack. Even if she and Ennis are friendly, I doubt she'll get involved. You'd have better luck with Satomi."

Peter had to hold in a snort at that. Satomi was a powerful Alpha who demanded respect, but she and her pack were as far from fighters as they could get.

Talia gave Alex a look. "Satomi is a pacifist, not helpless. I also think she would agree without my prompting. Deucalion's plan is to bring in small packs that are more isolated. We can't have too many at once, that's asking for failure. We have a common enemy, but that doesn't mean we all get along."

"If Kali doesn't want in, what about the Payne Pack?" Gwendoline suggested. "They're in Yreka, that's pretty much in the middle of nowhere. The Freeman and Duncan packs are too."

Talia nodded. "We'll see what the other's say and keep it in mind."

"How soon are we looking to meet?" Peter asked, speaking up for the first time. He's debated it, not really sure of his place in the meeting, but no one else seemed to be asking. Time factored into everything. More time could lead to a better-developed plan. Or a chance for more mistakes. "Next week, a month from now? The Argents are only going to increase if they think something's up. If we're meeting here, we can't do it at the house. We'll have to scout a place out." He could sense the approval from Alex. As enforcers, it was their job to keep the pack safe.

Talia nodded. "Deucalion will probably be here within the next week. He may bring a few pack members. Nothing to raise any eyebrows. We'll meet Kali and Ennis on their territory. There's no sense bringing everyone here with the hunters about. But, we are the most central. If something happens they'll be coming here."

Alex nodded. Peter could practially see the plans running through his brain.

She turned back to Seth, "As for the Argents, any idea on numbers?"

Seth shook his head. "Miles Argent is heading up the weapon's dealing front. He's only got a couple 'employees.' But that doesn't mean anything. He's here with his wife and daughters. I think the older girl's in Cora's class from what I heard all the kids saying."

"She is. Speaking of," Peter chimed in, "Elze said that Cora's being quite hostile about that. She's only going to get more attention if she doesn't act normal. Malia's starting to act the same."

Talia sighed. "May, will you help me talk to them all later? Argent may not be the only hunter child enrolled." May nodded. Seth put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close, sensing her nervousness.

"Peter, keep an eye on everyone over at the high school," Talia instructed. "I know you don't share classes, but try and keep up with everyone at lunch. Laura, you too."

"Right," Peter said. Laura only nodded.

"And Seth, since you brought it up, what's your read on Stilinski?" Elections were in a couple of months, and the current sheriff was forecasted to be voted out.

Seth was still holding his wife while he took a sip of tea thoughtfully. "He's a good guy. Pays attention to the people. Very driven. That's what will get him elected. Goes by the evidence."

"You think he'll win the election?"

Owen chimed in. "I think it's pretty much a given. No one has a serious grudge against him, except maybe the current sheriff. And that's only because he knows he probably won't get re-elected because of him. When the supernatural's on the up, sheriffs don't tend to last long in this town." Granted, that particular mess was at the beginning of the current sheriff's term, but Beacon County had a good memory and really, the man hadn't handled it well regardless of the case's solvability.

"Council likes him," Philip added.

Owen was a political analyst and Philip worked for the Mayor. Add werewolves who could smell chemosignals to men who were already fantastic at reading people's intentions, and there was little you could pull over them. With Seth a member of the sheriff's department there wasn't a lot in Beacon Hills the pack didn't get a heads up on.

"The only issue," Philip continued, "Is that his wife's in hospital. She was helping with a lot of the campaign from what I understand. And he has two kids."

Peter shifted in his seat, not sure whether to speak or not. Claudia was still perfectly lucid, he just didn't know if it was his place to say it or not.

"But you think he's fair?" Talia pressed.

Phillip nodded.

"Definitely," Seth said. "He won't be a hindrance. I don't know how'd he'd reacted to this if he were to find out," he said, gesturing around the room, "But I doubt it would be a shoot-to-kill order. And he wasn't overly impressed with Argent."

Talia only nodded, not looking like she was going to say more. The Stilinskis might be on the same level as their emissary as far as keeping the pack in the know went. 

* * *

Peter sat at the kitchen table reading the short story they were assigned for English instead of going up to his room to sleep despite it being past around 8:00 in the morning. The pack meeting had been short. Talia would speak more with those she wanted to be involved in the alliance directly, and aside from practising vigilance, there was little to be done about the Argents.

"You were going to stay something else, about Stilinski," Alex said, walking quietly into the room, mindful of the sleeping pack in the rooms over.

He was a larger, balding man who always wore button downs and a vest. He gave off the impression of an over-friendly countryman. At a glance, no one would guess he could be a vicious werewolf who's job was to protect the pack via any means necessary, be it deception, smarts, or outright violence.

"Actually," Alex said sitting down, lifting the chair so it didn't grate across the floor. "I wasn't sure if you would speak up at all. Laura's only in there to watch, but you're old enough to participate. Have been for a little while, actually."

Peter shrugged. "Just that I've met Claudia and she seems sane. But, I didn't think it was relevant, or for me to say. Talia knows that and didn't seem to want to mention it."

Alex looked surprised. "How do you know Claudia?"

Peter looked at the pages of his book, but not really reading it. "I'm friends with her daughter. Gave her and her brother a lift to the hospital."

Alex didn't usually betray his emotion through his face, but he couldn't hide the surprise in his scent. "I don't speak to you for a couple of days and you go and actually make friends? I should've tried that sooner."

Peter rolled his eyes even though Alex couldn't see.

"Does she know about us? And stop pretending to read your book."

Peter scoffed, but closed it, pushing it towards the middle of the table. "If she does she hasn't said anything. But it's only been a couple of days. Mom and Talia said it was inherited, so if she doesn't know yet, she will sooner rather than later the way Claudia's health is going." Peter glanced at Alex who was frowning thoughtfully. "Who does know about them? Mom said Claudia was in the same grade as Philip, but I get the impression he doesn't know."

Alex shook his head. "You're father knew, and Gwen and Paula and I as default. I met them when I became enforcer after we got back from 'Nam. Talia didn't find out about them until she was Alpha. Claudia wasn't noticed when she was at school since her father was still alive. I don't believe Owen knows yet. Though that will probably change whenever your mother steps down. Maybe sooner if Claudia is dying."

Alex leaned forward in his chair slightly, resting his arms on the table. "Enough about that though. Don't think you're getting out of explaining why you of all people suddenly have a friend."

Peter groaned. "Are you all going to keeping going on about this? Mom's already interrogated me, and everyone else has been teasing me since Thursday."

Alex held up his hands. "I'm not teasing you. I'm curious about a girl who somehow managed to get past all of your defences."

"I'm _not_ dating her," Peter almost snarled, aggravation seeping into his tone.

"I didn't say you were," Alex said.

Peter took a breath. Alex really hadn't meant it like that. "Are you disappointed?" Peter asked after he'd taken a moment to calm down.

Alex laughed softly. "Peter, being an enforcer does tend to imply keeping your distance to keep an eye on things, but it doesn't mean shoving everyone away. That can sometimes be a side effect of what we sometimes have to do, but it isn't intentional. If you cut yourself off to that extent, are you even pack if you act like an Omega? And if that is what you thought, I'd love to know how you got that idea as Ophelia and I are happily married with children and grandchildren."

Peter did know this. Ophelia had Alex whipped. "Yes, but Ophelia is a human who knows. Any friend I make won't, and I'll have to lie to them even more than I already do."

Alex sighed. "Ophelia didn't know when I first came back from 'Nam. I married her before I got the bite. She almost left me because I hadn't told her and she knew I was hiding something. Your father dragged my head out of my ass, actually." Peter didn't respond. Alex leaned forward, "And yet, even not knowing that, you didn't know Elze was possibly aware when you met her, did you?"

"No," Peter said quietly, looking out the window into the early morning.

"So what drew you in?" Alex asked, genuinely just curious as far as Peter could tell.

Peter shrugged. "Elze's just different. I can't explain it." It was true. The way she studied him, to her confession about going to crime scenes, to her very scent drawing him in made her so different from anyone he'd met before. The last part made him sound like a creep though, even if it was curiosity that made him notice her, not attraction.

Alex had up his hands again. "I won't push. I'm glad you have a friend. I'd encourage you to find more, but I already have. Don't let fear of what you are stop you from having a life, Peter. Seth has friends at the department, but they don't know what he is. May and Nellie and Conner teach dozens of children who have no idea aspects of fairy tales are real, Jacob and Clayton have friends at work too. They're all human."

"I don't want to lie more than I already do."

"Then all you can do is pick friends you can tell the truth to. It isn't easy, and sometimes we judge wrong, but it's worth it. You have to trust someone, Peter. Don't just trust her because she had something to hide."

Peter was sceptical. "Everyone has something to hide." It was one of the first lessons Alex had taught him.

Alex sighed. "But our secrets are different from most. I'll convince you one day. Go get some sleep. I want to do some training before I leave later."

* * *

Training with Alex was very open to interpretation, Peter found. A lesson could range from pack politics, to a memorable meeting with one of Alex's shadier contacts in San Fransisco, a sparing lesson, a demonstration of manipulation techniques, or the differences between human body language and a werewolf's. Alex had mentioned interrogation techniques once, but Peter had a feeling Talia might have nixed that one for the time being. Peter honestly wasn't sure how he felt about that, or the topic of interrogation in general.

There were times when Alex spoke that Peter wondered where the soldier in Alex stopped and the wolf began. After Quint got back from wherever the army sent him after 9/11, Peter didn't think there was a line. There was no coming back from war intact, even with werewolf healing. There was only so much your mind could take, only so far your instincts could recover.  As the stories from the Middle East came back, Peter could understand why Talia had pressed pause on that particular lesson. Even so, Alex's lessons were harsh, exploiting and understanding the darker side of human nature. And Peter took to it like a fish in water.

But there were boundaries. Enforcers reacted, they didn't initiate. Otherwise, Peter was in-tune with himself to know that he would probably be causing more trouble than he solved if Alex hadn't started teaching and thereby reigning him in two years ago. Peter didn't like to linger on what he might be doing were he left to his own devices. He had a tendency for pranks and a sharp tongue that could make even Cora cry. He knew what the far-reaching consequences could be if he wasn't careful. Alex started training Peter because he put the pack first, but if Alex hadn't, Peter knew there was a chance he might have lost sight of that. A prank might have lead to a loss of control, an insult a perceived inadequacy, and he knew what the latter felt like.

His talents were an asset to his pack. His loyalty was the only thing stopping him from being a threat to them like he was to everyone else.

To Peter's surprise, instead of going out to some cafe or commandeering Talia's office for privacy, Alex told him to dress decently and drove them in the direction of San Francisco.

"Where are we going?"

"To meet a contact of mine. About time I introduced you to him."

"What does he do?" Asking who he was wouldn't clarify anything. Alex only mentioned specific contacts after he'd introduced them to Peter.

"His name is Adán Vargas. Human. Not hunter affiliated, but he got tangled up in the supernatural about a decade ago when his son was bitten. Kept up with the times as a result. Kind of guy who'd make a wonderful police informant." Alex would know. Some of his contacts were police informants. A good number didn't even know about the supernatural, though they could report on the side effects of such that Alex could read.

Peter frowned. "Why would he talk to you? Doesn't sound like he has a reason to like werewolves. Even if he does, San Francisco is Taylor Pack territory."

Alex frowned as he switched lanes. "Because hunters are the ones who killed his son before he even did anything. As far as we know, he'd never even shifted. Vargas has tried to keep us on the up ever since. Doesn't exactly go out of his way, but if you ask, he'll tell you anything you want to know. Keeps his ear to the ground."

"And Kasim's alright with us being here?" Kasim was the Alpha of the Taylor pack. Peter had never met him, but he had a reputation of fairness that Peter didn't think even the Argents could mar.

Alex snorted. "Not particularly, he defends his territory like any Alpha, but he knows I'm not the only one who talks to Vargas. Who never keeps a phone long enough to make this whole trip unnecessary." Alex muttered the last part like it was an ongoing argument he'd had with the informant. "At any rate, we're not going to hang around. You've got school tomorrow and I don't fancy sleeping in the truck."

Peter grimaced. If they could avoid it, wolves didn't stay in motels. He'd had to sleep in them a handful of times for basketball games. Werewolf hearing was mostly a surmountable obstacle. The ear tended to focus on one sound at a time, making it easy to narrow your range of hearing to a specific area, such as a single room.

They weren't so lucky with their sense of smell. It was easier within the pack, since all of their scents equated to a sense of safety, but around others, it was an annoyance that took a lot of practice to ignore. It was one of the reasons school was so difficult. With hundreds of students and all of their corresponding emotions in the air, it could be nauseating. But that honestly had nothing on motel rooms, especially the cheap ones; they reeked, usually of sex. Peter couldn't explain why it was so disgusting, given that most people had at least a trace of it on them and it wasn't an issue, but all werewolves agreed that motel rooms were vile.

The drive ended at a warehouse in the Mission District. It was busy, clearly a business that worked Sundays. Alex climbed out of the truck, motioning Peter to follow. "Vargas owns the building. We'll go talk up in his office."

As they crossed the warehouse floor, the two gathered a fair amount of curious looks. Peter could see why. All of the employees were dressed in old, stained clothing as they worked machinery in the mid-August heat. Alex stood out like a sore thumb in a black button down and hat, and more to the point, no sweat stains. Peter stood out for an entirely different reason, the smart jeans and t-shirt doing nothing to hide that he was probably one of the youngest people in the building. Two girls a few years older than him working a conveyer belt were talking to each other and snickering as they watched him walk past, and Peter heard someone yell "fresh meat" further down the line. Peter didn't let it phase him. If Vargas was anything like his workers, he couldn't. Informants might not be strong themselves, but they could suss out and exploit a weakness a mile away if they were any good. He wasn't staying long at any rate.

Peter followed Alex up a steep set of concrete stairs into a hallway that was air-conditioned but smelt strongly of cigarettes. He could hear a man talking to someone, annoyance colouring his tone. Alex stopped outside the doorway where the conversation, or rather, berating now Peter could hear over the fans, something about harassment, was taking place. The man immediately cut himself off as Alex rapped on the doorframe.

"Get out, Davis." The man, Davis, Peter presumed, stormed out of the office down the hallway into another room, slamming the door behind him.

Peter peered around the corner of the doorframe over Alex's shoulder. A tall man in his fifties was standing, hand tiredly held on his hips.

"You know I wouldn't want my own daughter to work here?" He said.

Alex shrugged. "I wouldn't want Nellie to work here either, and she can more than handle herself. How legal is this place anyway?"

Peter wondered just how much this man knew about Alex. Far more than the usual informant at any rate. Alex didn't use any real family in his regular backstories.

Vargas scoffed. "Your daughter's a Spanish teacher. And it's as legal as it was last time you were here. It's enough that no one comes poking at my extracurriculars." 

"As I said, she can take care of herself."

Vargas grinned. "I believe that. Unfortunately, Sarita doesn't have Nellie's kind of backup. Come on in, shut the door." He caught sight of Peter standing in Alex's shadow. "And who's this? I didn't think you had any grandsons."

Alex motioned Peter forwards. "This is Peter, Gwendoline's youngest. He'll be talking to you one day."

Vargas looked at Peter with new eyes, scrutinising. "Is that so?" Peter didn't flinch, studying the man right back. His beard was very neat and he wore a polo neck and dress slacks, but the smell of sweat and the way he carried himself made Peter think he wasn't really the management type if he had a choice and it was probably only for appearances. Vargas nodded at Peter. "You'll do alright. Better than the kid Collins sends."

He motioned to the chairs and sat down. "What happened? You don't usually come down here unless something is up."

"The Argents have just moved back into Beacon Hills."

Vargas got a dark look on his face. Peter had an inkling that they were the ones who had killed his son. "They try anything? I haven't heard anything yet, but news tends to trickle slowly from you guys. "

Alex shook his head. "Not up here, but someone wiped out the Venadero Pack."

Vargas nodded. "I heard." He stood and walked over to a filing cabinet in the corner, slammed his foot against the bottom drawer so that it popped open. "And with the Argents moving in now, it doesn't look good," he continued, rummaging through files. "There haven't been excessive weapons movements up here that I've noticed. It has picked up, but nothing that screams hunters. I imagine that will change if they've settled in Beacon Hills for the time being. I've been talking to a guy in L.A. to see what it's like down South. I've got a druid friend too. I can ask her if someone in that community's selling stuff, but it's unlikely. You know I never managed to find out who their wolfsbane supplier is. Furthest I was able to track that down was Denver, but I'm fairly sure they ship that poison in from Europe or China."

"So hurry up and wait?"

Vargas looked up from the file he was flipping through and nodded.

"Hurry up and wait. Lie low. Don't do anything that could give you away. If they went after Vernadero's pack, all they need is an excuse. His family never hurt anyone."

Vargas finally seemed to find what he was looking for and slid a leaflet of papers over the desk to them. It was a list of shipment information across a variety of companies."I originally thought this was all headed down to L.A. and San Diego since there are packs there. But I did some digging when I heard about Vernadero. There was a shipment from Argent Arms that was shuffled down to San Luis Obispo, another to Monterrey, and a third to Santa Barabara. The rest of the stuff on there is the usual amount of crap we get in here and Sacramento. But we have so much of that come in it's hard to tell what's Argent and what's not."

"You think they're planning something?" Alex asked. Peter was wondering the same thing, remembering Seth's words. But it wasn't his place to speak here. In fact, Alex encouraged him not to unless he said otherwise.

Vargas shrugged. "Don't know. This is all over a six month period. If it's being held in a larger city, it could just be for storage. Sometimes it's actually legit. Argent Arms brings in a fair amount of revenue for them. I just mark it and hold on to it until one of you comes asking. Unless I have evidence something's actually going to happen, this is conjecture and everyone get's put on edge for no reason. Then again, they used to be better about waiting for evidence."

Peter frowned minutely and wondered if the Venadero pack would agree if they were still alive.

Vargas seemed to catch his expression. "I missed the stuff going to San Luis. Anything going to the middle of nowhere I try to get in touch. I'm just a guy. I can't catch an entire massive family that has a vendetta a mile long." Peter could smell the guilt coming off the man despite his carefree words. He could sense the reproach coming from Alex.

Peter just nodded. "I'm sorry," he apologised. "I shouldn't have assumed."

Vargas held up a hand. "Don't worry about it. You've got a conscience. At the end of the day, we're all only human and we're all kicking ourselves. We can only do better next time, even if I know we can't save everyone." He had a sad look in his eye, and Peter wondered what the story was behind his son's death.

Suddenly, the radio on the desk sprung to life, something about a broken belt. Vargas sighed. "I'd better go take care of that."

Alex nodded and stood, Peter followed suit. "Thank you for all this."

Vargas nodded. "Anytime."

Alex just snorted. "It would be if you actually had a consistent phone number."

"Call the office," Vargas said as he closed and locked the office door behind them.

"Sarita hangs up on me."

"Because I raised Sarita not to talk to strange men on the phone."

Peter rolled his eyes as the men kept bickering, then focused on the leaflet in his hand Alex had slipped him, trying to remember as much as he could. He kept half an eye on the two men in front of him as they crossed the warehouse floor again. When they were close to the entrance, Peter folded the leaflet in half. Vargas stopped and shook hands with Alex, nodded at Peter, then did a double take.

He sighed. "You're teaching him bad habits. I would've made you a copy."

Alex grinned. "I got the first half he got the second. You ruin the environment enough with this place," he said, gesturing around the sweltering warehouse.

Peter held in snort. It was a test to see how good he could remember information. And from the look on Vargas's face, he knew enough about Alex to guess as much. He just sighed and held out his hand. "In that case, I only have a paper copy of that and would like it back."

Peter didn't both holding back the smirk as he handed the papers over.

When they were back in the truck with the air conditioning running, Peter asked, "What exactly does Vargas do in there?"

"I honestly don't know and decided when I first met him that I didn't want to. It's not drugs and it's not weapons. Aside from that? God knows."

Peter nodded but didn't speak again until they were on the highway and well out of San Francisco. "I don't think I've ever seen you that honest with someone."

"Talia tried to save his son. Kid was bitten by the Alpha of a roaming pack. Agreed to it from what we figured out. The Argents didn't get that side of the story though and attacked the pack." Alex didn't look away from the road. Peter watched his face. Alex was talking in the quick way with the barest amount of details Peter had figured out a long time ago meant he'd best be happy with what he was given, so he was surprised when Alex spoke again after several minutes of silence.

"The boy would have died anyway. He rejected the bite."

"Does Vargas know that?"

"I never told him," Alex finally said. "But I don't know."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Twelve subscribers!!! :) I know that doesn't seem like much, but it really, really means a lot. (At least since I found the stats page.)
> 
> I promise, there will be more Elze next week. There's going to be an interlude hopefully within the next week showing some of the background to keep everyone up to speed on what Peter and Elze don't know, then I'm going to stick us in Elze's head for a little while.
> 
> Pack Recap:
> 
> Sam Hale is Talia's husband.  
> Alex Schirmer is the pack's Left Hand. He was bitten by Ashley Hale in the mid-sixties in Vietnam. He's currently training Peter to take over.  
> Owen and Quint Hayward I mentioned last week, but to reiterate, are Zoe Hayward's sons. Owen is training to take over as Right Hand from Gwendoline. Douglas and Cyril are Quint's sons.  
> Tyra Armstrong is Zoe's fifth child, and Riley's mother.  
> May Hale is Zoe's youngest, human, and Seth's wife.
> 
> Comments really make my day and also influence some of where I go with this. What do you want to see? What do you like, hate, etc.


	6. Lockers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter didn't think he could dislike the lacrosse team even more than he did. Then Rich Seaver went and pissed him off and that made him miss lunch.

**August 20th 2003**

Elze hadn't been in class, or the rest of the school for that matter, for the last two days, and Peter didn't want to admit it, but he was worried. It was now Wednesday, and Peter was sitting in English, Elze's seat behind him still empty. It was a repeat of Friday when Elze rushed in just before the bell rang, wearing black-rimmed glasses to Peter's surprise, and practically flung herself into her seat. She smelled sharply of coffee again, and Peter had a feeling that frantic, caffeine-fueled mornings were the norm with the Stilinskis.

Peter reached into his bag and pulled out the stack of two-days worth of assignments and held them over his shoulder. He only had the work for the classes they shared, but it would save her going to collect most of it later.

"Where have you been?" He turned around in his seat and asked her quietly.

"Migraine," she said, leaning forward to say it. "And thanks."

"You ok now?" Peter could smell the discomfort, but he wasn't sure if it was because she was embarrassed or in pain.

"I can see straight now."

"You don't normally wear glasses, do you?"

Elze huffed softly. "It's not bad enough to usually. Migraines make my vision go funny for a few days."

Peter couldn't ask more before Mrs Doi cleared her throat. It was the only warning the entire class got to settle down at the beginning of class. She was much nicer than Peter had assumed on the first day, but stern. She didn't bother calling role, merely checked empty seats since everyone sat in the same place.

"Miss Stilinski, nice to have you back. I assume you have some sort of doctor's note?"

"Uh, no ma'am, but my dad came in to explain to the principal's office."

"Alright. Mr Hale has all of your assignments if he hasn't given them to you yet. Please turn to page 154 in your texts books. _An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge_."

The story was particularly disturbing in documenting a mental break, and Peter was happy to close his book at the end of the hour and a half long period. He stood waiting for Elze to pack her back. As he guessed, she didn't have a notebook out, and only made a couple notes in the margins of her textbook. "You weren't kidding about not making notes, were you?"

"Don't need to for this stuff."

"Damn. Was hoping for your help in Chemistry."

Elze groaned at the reminder of their next class. "Harris is going to be a bitch. I'll have to make notes or he'll accuse me of not paying attention. I'm pretty sure he hates me, and I've already missed one day."

"You only missed all the lab safety stuff, and Harris hates everyone. We'll snag a table at the back. It's a lecture day at any rate. You won't have to worry about accidentally blowing something up."

Elze snorted. "That would really endear me to him, wouldn't it?" She stopped next to a locker to change from her literature text to the heavy chemistry book. Peter couldn't help but notice her locker code. _1123._

"That's not a particularly safe locker code."

Elze grinned. "But because it's sequential it takes ages to spin the dial. No one wants any of the crap in my locker anyway. Unless you truly desire an ultra healthy lunch." She fixed him with a serious look as she put the book in her bag. "I'll help you with chem, but I swear, you'd better pull your weight in lab, or we're going to have issues."

"Fun in the past?"

Elze just growled and swung the locker door shut and her bag on her shoulder. Or tried, before Peter took it from her. She glared, but Peter simply grinned and wouldn't give it back.

"At least you can't be worse than Christian in physics sophomore year. He didn't write a procedure for our final lab and I got stuck with him. He didn't even show up for the second day and I had to finish it by myself."

"I wouldn't dare slack," Peter said, trying not to laugh at the absolute disgust on her face at her classmate and shooed her forward to the stairs.

"Don't you need your book?"

"Grabbed it earlier. My locker's in Building A."

Elze's nose screwed up. "And you want to lug my books all over campus along with yours?"

"Why are you complaining? You're benefiting."

Elze shrugged in concession. "Knock yourself out," she said and hopped up the stairs. Peter followed closely. The Building B stairs were steep and he wasn't entirely sure Elze wouldn't just tip backwards and fall the way she was jumping each step.

They were early enough to snag a table one up from the back row. Harris was already in the room and eyed them, but didn't say anything. Monday he had moved students who were talking in class on Thursday before the lecture. Most were smart and didn't sit together again today. Rich Seaver, the lacrosse captain, clearly wasn't one of those and got called out for sitting next to Tolbert again and was told to switch seats. Peter thought he heard Elze sigh with relief when Harris didn't call out her to sit with one of them, but he wasn't sure. To Peter's surprise, Harris didn't pay any attention to her other than to tell her to get a copy of the lab safety sheet he passed out on Monday from Peter.

Elze tore out a page in her notebook and put it between them. She'd written at the top of the page.  _Tell me when you don't get something and we'll go over it later or I'll try to clarify it._ She was left-handed. If they put it in the right spot it would look like one of them was making notes. It was a good set up. Peter hated to admit it, but science really wasn't his strong suit simply because he had no practical use for it.

"Thanks," he murmured. He really wanted to ask what the deal was with Seaver but didn't risk it. Harris had gone around checking for students passing notes and promptly made them move in the middle of class. The man was a disciplinarian and Peter wasn't stupid enough to try and go against the flow. He'd smelt the lingering scent of alcohol every time he was near the teacher, and wondered just how much he drank and if that had anything to do with it, or if it was just due to West Point going by the photo on his desk.

Today was just definitions though, so he hadn't had any trouble, but if Laura's stories were anything to go by, that wouldn't last long, and he held in a groan when Harris announced a module quiz on Friday. Some idiot did complain though, and Harris had shot off a remark about this was the easy stuff and they shouldn't have a problem if they paid attention and told them to get out.

"Lunch?" Peter asked.

Elze nodded. "Let me put my stuff up and grab my lunch box. I'll meet you in the cafeteria."

Peter nodded. His locker really was out of the way. There wasn't any point her walking with him.

Except, when he got to the cafeteria, Elze still wasn't there either. Peter could see Derek and the girls sitting at their usual table in the corner by the window. Peter had a lot further to walk than Elze, so she should be here. He ignored Laura's questioning look and walked back out of the room. His wolf was screaming that something was wrong, restlessly moving in his chest, though if pressed he wouldn't be able to explain why.

He ran back toward's Elze's locker, pushing past the few stragglers to lunch without an apology in his rush down the hallway. He shot through the doors and across the pavement back to Building B where her locker was. Peter vaguely felt his eyes flash around his vision when he reached the hallway, the scents of fear and anger and pain all mingling in a mix that made his nose curl.

There, with her back against a bank of lockers, was Elze, surrounded by three taller boys. One, Peter immediately identified as Rich Seaver, who was pinning Elze by her shoulders. The other boys loomed either said boxing her in. Peter could hear her panting in his ears. Her glasses were gone, and while Peter couldn't see any damage, he could smell her pain.

"Hey!" He shouted, getting all four students to face him. Elze still looked afraid, but there was relief on her face, while Seaver just looked annoyed. Peter didn't pay much attention to the other two. "Get away from her!"

Peter had no idea if his eyes were still showing or not. He guessed he hadn't shifted at all given that none of the boys seemed particularly terrified. His fingers curled into fists, the urge to unsheath his claws growing by the second and any moment now Peter expected to start feeling pinpricks of pain in his palms.

Seaver laughed, unimpressed with him. "What are you going to do Hale? It's three against one." He was still holding Elze against the lockers, but Peter could still hear her heartbeat thudding unsteadily. Her eyes narrowed at being counted out from Seaver's taunt, and Peter had a feeling if the lacrosse captain made a move she was going to kick Seaver in the balls. Which Peter took no issue with.

"You really don't want to know. Walk away," Peter said evenly. Because he wasn't going to hold back. He wasn't really sure that he could. He really didn't want to. _In and out._ He felt a prick of pain in the centre of each of his palms where his ring fingers pressed.

"Really, you know lacrosse is a contact sport, right? What are you going to try and do, dance around us? Jump and tap us on the top of our heads?"

"No. I'm going to break your nose," Peter responded.

Seaver laughed again. "Don't let her run off," he said to the other two. Peter recognised one as Tolbert now that he had turned. They each put a hand on her shoulder to stop her running off, but she still struggled. Seaver just chuckled. "Really, how did you make the team?" he asked mockingly. He swaggered confidently forward towards Peter, holding his hands open invitingly. "Give it your best shot."

Peter signed, letting his breath out slowly trying to let his anger go and regain control. His eyes closed briefly when he felt the tell-tale burn of them glowing. Because as much as he wanted to hit Seaver, he was more likely to give him a concussion than just break his nose. Or claw his face open.  _Breathe. Separate. Prioritize. Pack First._ Peter couldn't let himself go.

Apparently, though, Peter was taking too long and Seaver made a move. Peter sensed him step forward and his eyes flew open. Seaver lunged, fist swing out with the intent to clock him on the side of the head. Peter didn't even think as he reacted, ducking easily before immediately straightening and throwing his own first forward in a fast jab. He felt bone break as his knuckles collided with Seaver's nose, feeling warm blood splatter on his fingers.

Seaver stumbled back, hand clutching the injury. "You brok' my nos'!"

Peter shrugged, not really caring. "I told you I would." He glared at Tolbert and the other boy. "I'd let her go."

Tolbert looked at Seaver, who was leaning on a locker between himself and Peter. "You going to break ours too? He threw the first punch, sure, but we haven't done anything."

As much as Peter knew how to work a system to get away with stuff, he ironically really hated other people who did. He despised Tolbert at this moment.

Peter just nodded at Elze who they were still holding, albeit more loosely against the lockers. She was furious now. "No. But she looks like she's going to if you don't let her go. Pretty sure what you're doing's considered assault in the real world."

Tolbert didn't get a chance to respond because Elze, who had been steadily bringing her leg up, kicked him directly in the kneecap. The bigger boy crimpled as his leg gave out with a shout, at which point, Peter and Elze turned to the last boy, who suddenly looked extremely scared. Peter was about to take a step forward when a shrill whistle behind him made his ears ring and he hissed at the sensation. Judging from the look on Elze's face, it wasn't just because he was a wolf.

Peter spun around to see Coach Finstock standing with his whistle in hand and a look of pure fury on his face. "I told you what would happen if I caught you. Principal's office, now. I'll be there in a minute and there will be hell to pay if you aren't sitting outside when I get there."

"He brok' my nos'," Seaver moaned in protest.

Finstock shrugged. "I don't care. You've had worse during games and still played. You'll have plenty of time once we're done with you to go to the nurse. Or I can reset it for you now." Finstock's tough love approach must have applied to injuries because Seaver shook his head and stumbled to his feet. Finstock nodded at the third uninjured player. "Help Tolbert, Arrington."

"What about them?" Arrington asked, gesturing to Peter and Elze.

"I'm sure the principal will agree that having you all in the same room isn't a great idea right now, wouldn't you? They're going for their turn in the nurse's office. Now go!"

Peter heard Elze let out a shaky breath behind him, and he turned to see her bend down picking up what Peter realised where the broken pieces of her glasses. They had been stepped on from the look of it.

"You alright Stilinski?" Finstock asked before Peter could. Elze just nodded silently. Finstock sighed. "Are you actually alright or hiding another injury again?"

Elze's eyes flashed defiantly. "I'm fine. They just slammed me against the lockers."

"Right." Finstock didn't look convinced. "You're still going to the nurse. I'm dealing with this now whether you like it or not."

"They didn't hit me."

"No, but from what I can see they did go after Hale who was trying to help you, meaning they were likely to. That's good enough for me." From Finstock's expression, less would have been enough for him.

"My dad's going to freak," Elze pleaded.

"Rightfully so. If it were my kid I would too. They only reason I haven't done anything is that I've yet to see enough to do something about it and you've always refused to report it."

"My dad's a cop. This will get out of hand. Peter's probably going to get suspended at the very least."

Finstock's expression turned exasperated and he turned to Peter. "Did you throw the first punch?"

"No, sir. Mine just made contact."

"There you go. I'll vouch for him, and since I'm sending everyone to the principal in the first place, at most he'll get a detention."

Elze didn't look convinced.

"Stilinski, this has been going on since last season that _I_ know of, and I'm positive it's been going on for longer than that. It's already out of hand. You're the only reason I haven't kicked Seaver off the team because you won't report anything and I don't have proof. I know you don't want to because you're the only girl on the team this year, but this is beyond that now. Half your teachers are already keeping you separated because they aren't stupid."

Elze huffed in frustration. "This isn't going to fix anything. The rest of them will just take it out on me at practice even if they do get suspended."

"You're not on the track team this year," Finstock pointed out. "It will have blown over by January if you do decide to play. And if not, I'll suspend them until they get the message."

"It's not that simple!"

"It is to me. And I'm the coach, so that's really all that matters. Now, go and get your spares from your locker, please, go to the nurse if you need it, and then head over to the principal's office, ok? Hale, make sure she does all that." Peter just nodded. 

* * *

Elze had tried to make Peter go to the nurse's office first but Peter had pointed out that was in Main Building and the locker rooms were at the other end of the building they were in. Peter didn't think she was lying about being uninjured, and his knuckles were a little tender to begin with but had already healed. Luckily, the blood was obviously Seaver's or he would have some story spinning to do. When they did finally get to the principal's office, the three lacrosse players were already inside, the receptionist instructing them to take a seat and wait.

"Want to know the best part of all this?" Elze muttered. "My lunch is still in my locker and I'm starving."

Peter tried and failed to hold in a chuckle at Elze's disgruntlement.

She glared at him. "Why are you laughing? I know you didn't have time to eat."

"Just your priorities. You get slammed against a locker, almost beaten up, and you're concerned about your lunch? You could be a hobbit."

Elze just glared grumpily. "I'm hungry, and Mr Davis has a no food policy."

"What class do you have after that?"

"Gates. And even if she didn't hate me too, that's like two hours from now. And that's just if my dad doesn't get called, and I'm not hedging my bets on that."

The door to the principal's office opened, and Seaver, Tolbert, and Arrington all filed out. Arrington took the last seat on the row of chairs Peter and Elze were sitting in, while the other two trampled out, presumably to the nurse's office.

Finstock did speak up for Peter as he and Elze were called in separately. Although her father did get called, Elze got off with a warning. Peter, however, got detention for the rest of the week for busting Seaver's nose even if it was in Elze's defence. The lacrosse players were suspended though, so thankfully Peter didn't have to deal with them during the hour of impending boredom.

They had to go back to Elze's locker to get her books, and she dug out her lunch box and held out a plastic bag of carrots to Peter as they walked back over to Building A in no particular hurry since they were already late for class. Peter just looked at the bag confused and she waved it in his face. "You didn't eat. Least I can do is give you some of my lunch since you got detention because of me."

Peter grinned and took the bag and started munching on the carrot sticks. He didn't realise how hungry he was until he started. Even if carrots really weren't his favourite.

"What happened, anyway?" Peter asked between bites. Elze started on a bag of celery.

"I didn't even get to my locker before they pinned me. Something about being Coach's pet or something. Also, apparently I'm conspiring with the enemy," she said airily.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I was sitting with you in chemistry."

Peter stopped in the middle of the hallway. "Seriously? From what you told me, they don't even like having you on the team in the first place."

"But I am on the team. Welcome to the small, contradictory brain of Rich Seaver. I've had to live in it for the last four years."

Elze had kept walking, but Peter caught up in a few strides having a good half a foot on her.

"About that. I was under the impression that the locker-slamming was past tense."

Ezle looked at him sheepishly. "Well, this was the first time _this_ semester."

Peter rolled his eyes. "No wonder you got off with just a warning running circles like that."

Elze gave a shit-eating grin. "My dad's the only person smart enough not to follow it."

"That's you didn't want him called?"

"No, I didn't want him called because there's going to be an interrogation about human rights and justice and sexual assault statistics when I get home. And now he's going to worry about me more than he already does. Ride over to the hospital's going to be fun."

"He's picking you up?"

Elze winced and nodded.

"Well, from the sound of it he's got a reason to worry. How often does this happen?" Peter was sympathetic, but really he just wanted to shake the girl for being so stubborn.

"Depends on how much I stand out in Seaver's tiny brain. And since it is so small, that's quite often. Usually, it's just stupid stuff; tackling me during practice or knocking stuff out of my hands 'accidentally.' And coach never saw it any of it."

"And you still didn't report it?" Peter asked disbelievingly.

"Peter, when you're the only girl on the lacrosse team because there isn't a girl's team you learn pretty quickly that allowances aren't going to be made for you. So you shut up and keep up."

"You aren't the only girl though."

"Am now. Suzana Prinson graduated. And they liked her even less than me. But they were scared of her brother so it wasn't too bad. You done with those?" Elze asked, seemingly unperturbed by the bullying. Peter looked down at the now half-full bag of carrots she was gesturing at and realised they were standing outside of Davis's classroom and handed them over so Elze could stuff them in her lunch box with her own empty bag.

Davis just raised an eyebrow as they entered the room and handed over their hall passes. They weren't able to sit together this class, Elze ended up on one side of the aisle while Peter was against the wall two rows back on the other. The class, despite being a third over by the time they got in dragged on, not to mention Peter had absolutely no idea what was going on since they had missed the beginning of the lesson and when the bell rang Peter stood by Elze's desk again as she packed up.

"I'll see you in the morning then?"

Elze nodded. "Have fun," she said apologetically.

Peter grinned ruefully. "It's not the worst thing I could get my first detention for."

* * *

Talia did not feel the same way. She was sitting in her office when Peter walked after spending an hour doing homework. He'd been half hoping for his mother, but she had sent him on in, and Talia berating him was probably more appropriate given that it was a fight.

"Fighting? Really Peter? You lucky you didn't get suspended."

"I know," Peter said. "But I wasn't going to let them beat the shit out of another student. And I didn't start it either."

"Language."

"That's what they were going to do," he defended himself. Usually, he would show some deference to the Alpha, but he'd heard the phone call to her and she didn't have the whole story.

Talia sighed and looked away. "Do I really need to explain why that was so risky?" she asked quietly.

"No, ma'am."

His sister wasn't satisfied. "Violence shouldn't be your first response, Peter."

"It wasn't. You'll recall that I just said I didn't start it. I told them to let her go, they didn't. Seaver threw the first punch. I ended it quickly."

"Her? Elze?" Talia looked tired as she made the connection.

Peter nodded.

Talia sighed again. "Peter, you've got to be more careful. Now more than ever." She was pleading, not scolding now.

"I know. I will. I doubt it's going to happen again anytime soon. She's never had anyone stand up for her before. Hopefully, this whole mess will get everyone to leave her alone."

Talia stood and walked over to the window. "I hope so. A fight on top of everything else is the last thing she needs right now. Or you," she said, turning around and fixing Peter with a pointed look.

Peter frowned. "This isn't just about my detention, is it?" Talia reeked of stress, which is probably why she was not only holed up in the office but why the window was open.

"No." Talia finally sat down. "Kali D'Cruz called me today. Hunters have been setting traps in the Shasta-Trinity Forest. Luckily, they weren't the ones to stumble on it; park rangers found them first."

That was bad. Kali's pack was based in Weed, but Shasta-Trinity was their territory, and if the hunters knew exactly where they ran, then they had been watched for some time.

"She's planning on moving into the Modoc Forest instead, but the fact that they got so close is worrying."

"Would the Payne Pack let them run in Klamath?"

"They would, I think, but Kali is pretty isolationist. She won't ask for help."

Peter looked out the window. There was nothing really to say to that. He followed Talia's gaze out the window. Cora and Derek were roughhousing out in the lawn, Malia racing out to tackle them both. Laura was upstairs listening to her music. Gwen was down for a nap. The younger boys were all running to the door to say hello to their mother as she got home from work. He couldn't imagine something happening to any of them. The guilt was creeping in. Getting to the fight had been so, so stupid. One slip up was all it took.

Peter was about to get up and leave when she held up a hand.

"Eunice Collins called me today too."

Peter frowned and sat back down. Eunice was the Alpha of about twenty wolves in San Jose, born wolves, like themselves.

"Her granddaughter was found dead this morning. Officially she bled to death due to a medical complication. But Eunice could smell wolfsbane on the body."

"Damn." Peter shook his head. He didn't know the dead woman, but it was distressing and disturbing that the murder was committed so openly. "They're closing in on us," Peter said.

Talia nodded but otherwise didn't respond. No one was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Definitely an interlude about what's going on outside of Beacon Hills, and next weekend, we're finally going to go and visit Elze's head for a while.
> 
> COMMENTS ARE LIKE CHOCOLATE. Not essential to survival but a wonderful part of life nonetheless.


	7. The Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little interlude, as promised. FYI: Kate Agent is a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Murder and the killing of a pregnant woman. Nothing graphic, but it's a little disturbing. We're visiting Kate Argent periodically and emphasising how much I hate that sadistic woman and to give us some insight into how later events come about. You can skip without detriment to the main story.

**August 20th 2003**

Kate Argent loved UC Davis. Psychology was a wonderful major and there were so many people to practice on. Plenty of hot boys. Sacramento and San Francisco were just down the road.

And there were plenty of opportunities for hunting.

She hadn't planned on going to university, actually. The hunt was far more exciting and important. But her father had insisted. Davis was central enough to keep an eye on the local packs and she could get an education that would be useful. There were five packs that she located within an hour's driving, and three were in university cities. Easy to blend in. Simple to hid the scent of aconite. No problem sliding close to the monsters masquerading as students.

She did wish her family was closer though. It could get lonely. Being an RA got her a room to herself to tack her maps and patterns on the wall and a safe place to hide her weapons, but she wanted to talk about it with someone!

There are moments she thinks about talking to Chris. Then she remembers they don't want ten-year-old Alison to hunt, ever, and she gets mad.

So she focuses on how to apply her textbook knowledge to manipulation and body language. She takes yoga to keep her heartbeat steady at all times and buys one of the portable finger monitors to practice her lying so a werewolf can't detect it.

Chris is thirteen years older than her, but at her age he had a prestige she's not even close to yet. She's going to top that before she graduates though, make a name for herself long before she hits twenty-five. She'll take them all out if it kills her.

But first. A lone wolf dies. Sometimes you have to start small.

The wolves in San Jose number around twenty as far as she can tell from her observations and spying on conversations. They don't live together. Nearly half are on university campuses around the area. And even if werewolves can't get drunk, they are vulnerable. Everyone is at college. Well, except her. But she knows what goes bump in the night  _and_ knows better than to get comfortable with it.

Judith Francis is the only werewolf at CALMAT as far as Kate can tell. She's a flirt. Doesn't have a steady boyfriend, but she is pregnant, just entered her second trimester. Her favourite baby name is Matilda. Kate knows this because she was randomly asked what she thought of it when pretending to study at the same table as her. She's made herself an approachable friend.

She can get close.

She does.

She slips a massive cocktail of NSAIDs mixed with wolfbane into her tea one night before they part ways after a shopping trip for baby stuff. Kate is never having a kid. Ever.

She bleeds out, and everyone assumes it's a miscarriage complication. The local Alpha predictably doesn't request an autopsy when she scents the wolfsbane on the Beta. Law enforcement is no match for a hunter, and Kate is proud that the creatures recognise that. Ecstatic that they are scared of her.

Kate is long gone by the time they find the body anyway, her scent nowhere near the apartment and she had carefully avoided the werewolf's body. She's driving back to Davis early Wednesday morning with two coffees in her car's cup rests to counteract the late night activities to confirm the kill. One down. The rest to go.


	8. The Shaw Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is very little Ennis Shaw wouldn't do for his pack. But at the end of the day, it all comes down to what's actually in his power to do, and that's a hard pill to swallow.

**August 20th 2003 - Eureka, California**

Ennis Shaw was cursing Kali when he got off the phone with her. She'd called to warn him about the traps the hunters were setting in her territory. It was more than Ennis had expected from her upon hearing it. The stubborn woman was notoriously independent and wanted as little to do with other wolves as she could. But then, it wasn't liked she'd called every pack over two hundred miles away. Just him. The thought had a warm feeling running through his chest, which was replaced with annoyance when he remembered she'd refused his offer to stay in Eureka to lay low. He knew Kali's isolationist tendencies made her pack incredible resilient, but that didn't mean taking chances. He wouldn't in her position.

Ennis's pack is only slightly larger than Kali's, but that didn't really mean much. Eugene was human and really too old to fight, so was Norman, even if he was a wolf. Adam and Logan were human, and Blake was too young to shift yet. If it comes down to a fight, he knows, with a sinking feeling in his gut whenever he thinks about it, that they will lose. His pack means everything to him. He can't let it get to that point.

So when Deucalion and Talia Hale contacted him out of the blue Monday morning with whispers of an alliance, he doesn't hesitate nearly as long as he thinks Talia thought he would. He's not an idiot. Humans aren't useless in a fight, far from it, but they are certainly more vulnerable than wolves, and his pack's instincts will be to protect the weakest rather than protect themselves. And Talia Hale wasn't someone to reckon with if you were smart.

His pack is painfully young, built from the ashes of the Hurst Pack. He gave the bite to Mary immediately afterwards, and his new left hand suggested he turn Alan. Melanie appeared with her son Blake a few months later.

Adam sort of drifted gradually into the pack after he saw Gabe shift during school a couple of years ago. He was adamant that didn't want the bite, but the subsequent pack bond that formed made Ennis think the young man might rethink that in a few years. He could wait, as much as he didn't want to. It was more than instinct; he needed a strong pack.

Then, last year Logan, another high schooler, showed up looking for bigfoot and wouldn't leave, like a stray cat. Ennis liked the boy so much he didn't bother trying to keep him away. He wouldn't give him the bite though. He didn't take issue with turning a fifteen-year-old, but it was easier regarding parents and schools if he didn't. He learned that lesson with Gabe.

Ennis prayed that the hunter's going after Kali's pack didn't turn to his once they gave up on hers. And they would give up. No one could hide better or fight harder than Kali when you threatened her pack.

The screen door to the house slammed and Ennis could hear the shuffling and chattering of the boys as they stopped by after school. Adam and Gabe attended Humboldt State as commuters, their pack bonds not encouraging them to stray far yet, and as selfish as it was, Ennis didn't encourage it either.

Ah, yes, there was Logan with them. Ennis was honestly surprised someone didn't make the teen actually go home. Then again, the kid went looking for bigfoot in the middle of the night, he pretty much did whatever he wanted. Ennis shook his head fondly at the memory. It was a good thing the boys looked after him, or who knows what trouble he would find.

Logan drifted into the kitchen while Ennis could hear the older boys approaching the back porch. Adam was frowning. Gabe was angry.

He put away the manual he was reviewing for a job at the shop. "What's wrong?"

"Tawney Duncan came and found us on campus earlier. Hunters have been sniffing around across the bay," Adam said. "They're giving up a heads up since we're so close. From what she said, they know there's a pack in the area, just not where."

"And it won't be the Duncans they find," Gabe muttered. The small family of born wolves lived in a tiny community half an hour up the coast, and they had even Kali and Satomi's packs beaten in the hiding game.

"Hey," Ennis reproached him. "They warned us. They didn't have to." He stood and walked back inside. His phone was in the kitchen.

"How did they even know there was a pack in the area?" Adam asked, following. "We haven't done anything weird, and the Duncans are cautious to a fault."

Ennis sighed. "I don't know. Hold on, I need to call Alan and the ladies, get them over here." Eugene and Norman shared the house with him. He ruffled Logan's hair as he passed him carrying a plate to the table where his homework was already out.

Logan poked his head in from the dining room. "Could have been someone who knew what they were talking about reporting a howl. Actual wolves haven't been seen in California in decades."

Ennis nodded, waiting for Mary's phone to pick up so he could leave a message. She worked the day shift at the port and wouldn't be off for another hour at least. "That and they know the Hurst Pack used to claim this territory.

"Who knows the Hurst Pack used to claim the territory?" A woman's voice said in his ear making Ennis flinch slightly.

"Sorry, I was going to leave a message. Aren't you working?"

Mary chuckled slightly. "You're lucky; it's a light day. What's up?"

"Can you pick up Melanie and Blake? I'll call Alan, but we need a meeting. There are hunters in town."

There was silence on the line. Mary had never encountered hunters, but she had seen what the aftermath had done to Ennis and the others. Hell, she was a result of that horrible attack.

"We'll be there in an hour," she said quietly and hung up.

"How scared should we be?" Gabe asked.

Ennis didn't answer for a moment. Logan would be alright so long as he kept his distance. As would Adam. Gabe on the other hand, hated being cornered, a result of long-term bullying. If the hunters engaged, it wouldn't end well.

"We haven't done anything," Ennis said firmly. "As long as we're careful, and _don't_ do anything, we should be fine."

"Do you really believe that?" Gabe asked. Ennis wondered if he was listening to his heartbeat.

"It all depends on which hunters we get." That was the truth.

"Why did they come after the Hurst Pack in the first place?" Logan asked.

Ennis paused in dialling Alan's number. "Because our Alpha gave them a reason to. I took care of him, but not fast enough. They came after us anyway." He fixed the boys with a serious look. "So let's not give them a reason." He waited until all three nodded before going back to calling Alan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 217 Hits!!!! Wow. Thank you all so much!
> 
> So, another interlude. We won't have another for a quite a while. Stay tuned for the weekend. Not sure if I'll update on Saturday or Sunday yet, but Elze will be making an appearance and we'll get more of an inkling about what the hell is going on in her life. Hint: a lot.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos. Hello to the three new subscribers. It means a lot that you're actually interested in where I'm going with this. Shout out to UnderHappy for your comments!
> 
> Kudos are lovely, comments are gold. Seriously, just telling me that you liked it absolutely makes my day.


	9. Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elze wished back to the days when breaking a mug after a terrible day was just that.

**August 20th 2003**

Elze absolutely hated when he father came and picked her up in the squad car. Not because she was ashamed of her dad, but one, everyone stared at her as she climbed in, and two, it was just a reminder that she couldn't drive her mom's jeep, which led to a reminder of why she couldn't drive the jeep, which in turn was just a horrible reminder of everything happening to her mother right now.

She never told her dad this. She never told him any of this. He was under enough stress with hospital bills and work and Stiles and _Mom dying_ and Elze was absolutely not going to add to it. And she was doing a really bad job of that. First being late on Friday, the two-day migraine, then her dad's worry over Peter, which might have been justified given that there was a fight today.

"Now, in your own words," he said as they waited to leave the parking lot. "Will you please explain how you got into a fight and somehow don't have detention? Because I almost asked them to give it to you."

"Because I played victim," Elze muttered. She was still angry that Peter had ended up with detention because of her. He should've just _stayed out of it. It could have gone so wrong._

Noah looked at her and then back at the road. "You've never played victim like that a day in your life. Why don't just say that you were attacked?"

Elze sighed. "Why are you asking if you already know?"

"You know why." He almost shouted. Noah sighed and lowered his voice. "Look, I don't understand much about whatever it is you and your mother are, but I know it's dangerous, or else I never would have found out about it. I worry about you. I would even if I didn't know about all of this; that's my job. And right now, I'm concerned about why you were attacked, which I was not told by Ms Smith, only that the lacrosse coach had to get involved."

Noah pulled off into the elementary school parking lot, but parked instead of getting in the pick-up line. A lot of parents picked up their younger kids after work. Elze still hadn't said anything.

"Sweetheart, you have to keep enough secrets as it is. So please talk to me about this."

Elze considered getting out the car for a moment, but she knew she wasn't going to be able to escape the conversation unless she ran and never came back. "Seaver, Tolbert and Arrington slammed me against a locker-"

"Elze, you promised if something like this happened you would give it up. It's the only reason we let you try out." Noah's face was furious.

"If you let me finish." Elze sighed. The agreement with her parents was the main reason she hadn't said much. Seaver was rarely this physical, but she knew her father wouldn't care about the details, and now, her mother wouldn't either. "They didn't do anything else. Peter tried to get them to let me go, they didn't, and they got in a fight."

"Peter _Hale_?" Noah said the name like all of his suspicions were correct and Peter was going to make Elze's like hell.

Elze rushed to his defence. "Don't get mad at him. Seaver swung first." Noah looked a little less angry. "And you can't really get mad at him when I busted Tolbert's knee."

Noah huffed. "You didn't kick him in the balls?"

"Couldn't 'cause of how they were holding me, but I would have."

"That's my girl."

Elze smiled faintly.

Noah looked out the windscreen at the crowd of kids being led to their cars. "I'm upset about what happened, but I'm not mad at you. I just wish you would tell me these things." He took Elze's hand in his and squeezed gently. "I know that our world is being turned upside down right now. I can't help you with the things your mom is helping you with right now. But I can help with everything else." He shrugged slightly. "And even if I can't, I'm going to try."

"You have enough on your plate as it is," Elze tried to argue. She'd seen his face after they got the diagnosis.

"I'm going to stop you right there." Noah let go of her hand and pointed a finger at her. "All this... stuff, it's just as new to me as it is to you. Even if I'm not as hands-on, it was definitely a shock to the system as I'm sure you can attest. And Mom dying; it's going to suck. We have to face that. And I know you're worried about me losing my wife. But I'm worried about you losing your mother. And that's not counting all of the magical consequences." He waved a hand around vaguely as he said it.

That had been a bad day when he found out about the supernatural. Mom hadn't wanted to tell him, but it was the only way to explain why she wanted to be committed to the long-term ward so soon.

"Sweetheart," Noh brushed away a tear Elze hadn't realised she'd shed. "You're carrying so much. Don't hide more secrets on top of that, 'cause it's only going to eat you alive." His face turned pleading. "So let me help with what I can. Because while you are almost grown-up anyways, and you're having to grow up way too fast, you're still only seventeen. So let me help my daughter because that's my job," he finished in a whisper. "And I don't want to lose you both."

That was why Elze didn't want to tell him anything. Because it wasn't just Mom he could lose. It was her and Stiles as well if Elze couldn't handle it. She pushed the thought away. Mom had done it without any time to prepare. Elze hopefully had a year or more.

She was interrupted from any response when there was a knocking on the rear door. "Let me in," Stiles shouted from outside.

Noah sighed and unlocked the doors. "And just what are you doing outside of school?" he asked as Stiles slid into the back seat.

"I saw your car and nagged Mr Johnson until he let me walk out. Don't worry, he was watching me the whole time."

Noah sighed. Elze understood the feeling. It was never a question of whether her brother would get into trouble, it was how he was going to talk his way out of it.

"Next time just wait until we come and get you, ok? Elze and I were having a conversation."

Stiles frowned. "And why are you here? Why isn't Peter picking us up?"

Noah raised an eyebrow at the last statement.

"Because he's in detention for hopefully breaking Rich Seaver's nose," Elze said before her father could ask.

"For how long?"

"The rest of the week. He said he'd drive us again on Monday."

Stiles scowled. "I hate the bus."

"Someone want to fill me in, please?" Noah interjected as he started driving out of the parking lot.

"Peter offered to drive us to the hospital after school some days so we didn't have to take the bus," Elze said, leaving out that she was under the impression that Peter would drive them _most_ days. Peter was already on her dad's bad side for existing it seemed.

"Mom likes him," Stiles chimed in from the backseat. Elze held in a smirk at how short Stiles was, the headrest poking above his head. Her dad had used to keep a booster seat in the truck and always told the story of the time he arrested someone and forget it was still in the back seat. The guy shrieking about not 'sitting in no car seat' had been entertainment for the station for weeks apparently.

"Your mother's met him?" Noah asked sceptically, probably wondering why she hadn't told him yesterday.

Stiles just shrugged, homework already spread out on his lap. "You know how she is with meeting friends." 

Noah just nodded wisely. It was one of Claudia's way of allowing someone through or reinforcing the protection runes on their house. Noah had decided fairly early on in that discussion that he didn't need the details and went to go pick up Stiles from Scott's house.

The hospital was now a very familiar place for Elze, having roamed it as often as visitor hours allowed. Sometimes her parents wanted to talk, or her mother was in some sort of test, or Stiles was going buggy and just needed to move around. She knew all of the nurses in the long term ward and most of the staff in radiology, as well as a fair amount in the ER from when the McCalls were watching Stiles over the summer and Mrs McCall was shuttling them back and forth from home.

It was probably a good thing Stiles didn't stay with them as much anymore. Stiles didn't say why, but he really didn't like Mr McCall, and Elze had a feeling that something was up between him and Mrs McCall, but she didn't know for sure. And Mrs McCall was a badass. So if something was up, on her husband's head be it.

Thankfully, Noah didn't walk in with them so Elze wouldn't have to explain immediately to her mother what had happened at school. She would have to, simply because Claudia was a mother and had a sixth sense about those things, but she wouldn't have to after walking through the door. Maybe.

Claudia looked up as she entered the room, an old book on the bed and a notepad on her knee. "Peter didn't come in today?"

"Dad picked us up since Elze got into a fight at school," Stiles said, walking over to the couch pushed against one wall and taking out his homework again.

Or not. "Thanks, Stiles." She looked at her mother's whose eyes had gone wide. "I didn't start the fight, for the record."

"I believe you," Claudia said cautiously. "We'll talk about that later. Should I ask Melissa to take you home then? Assuming your dad's going to be off late."

"I mean unless you want us in your hair all night." Technically there weren't set visiting hours, but the staff generally wanted people gone by 8:00 as so not to be disruptive.

Claudia smiled. "You know I couldn't tire of you. But it is a school night and you do need sleep. Especially with that migraine."

Elze winced. She thought she had hidden that better. Clearly not. "It's a lot better."

Claudia gave her a look that said she didn't care. "You can't afford to push yourself too much yet."

"That's not really true."

"Yes, it is." Claudia's tone brokered no argument. "If you push too much now you'll crack later. Nothing new today. Unless you want to read." She gestured to the books piled on the side table. Each had dozens of sticky notes poking out of the pages, and Elze knew that most pages had at least a page or more of lined paper covered in her mother's handwriting pressed between them. Sticky notes were for now. The cramped, college-lined notepaper was for later.

When her mother wasn't there to explain anymore.

Elze tried not to think too much on that, but it was next to impossible when it was constantly staring her in the face and near-physically weighing her down, filling her veins with energy no lacrosse-fuelled adrenaline could match.

She wished back to the days when breaking a mug was just that and not a sign of something way too big for her. 

* * *

They had been sitting in the waiting room of the ER for hours when they finally called her dad past the door to the exam rooms, but not Stiles and Elze. Elze had had a weird feeling in the back of her mind but didn't linger on it until Noah got home from work before Claudia, which never happened. Her dad hadn't been outwardly panicked, but then he had been worried when Claudia didn't answer her phone.

The hospital finally called staying that Claudia had been in a collision and was brought in with a head injury. Elze had been surprised when her dad didn't use the flashing lights on the police cruiser on the drive over to the hospital. They'd sat in the ER waiting room for over an hour before Noah was called through the doors, leaving Elze and Stiles to wait with Mrs McCall after she got off her shift. She looked so sad, but wouldn't tell them why. All Elze knew was that her mother wasn't dead. Yet. People didn't look like that when someone was going to be ok.

Then her dad was quietly calling her from the doors and Melissa was shifting Stiles who had fallen asleep on her so she could stand. She remembered that her legs kinda hurt from sitting for so long and that her dad had traces of tears left in his eyes that had Elze on edge.

Her mother looked completely normal in the hospital bed, a bandage on her forehead that Elze guessed was protecting a wound, dressed in a hospital gown and hooked up to a heart monitor that beeped rhythmically. She looked normal. But then Elze saw her father fighting back tears once again and Elze was powerless to do so herself. Her mother had just held open her arms and held Elze tightly as she rushed forward into them.

"It's alright," her mother had hushed her, stroking her hair as Elze sobbed.

Elze didn't know how long they sat like that, but eventually, she became aware that her dad was sitting on the uncomfortable chair in the corner with Stiles still dead to the world on his lap. Her mother had handed her tissues when she looked up, and Elze was struck by the fact that her mother seemed so at peace with the bad news Elze herself still didn't know.

A brain scan for a concussion check had revealed her mother's deteriorating brain. Frontotemporal Dementia, based on the symptoms they had all barely noticed. Her mother wasn't sleeping, her eating habits, the anxiety she had brushed off and hidden well. It was progressing fast.

They gave her two years. Max.

Elze thought she could work with that. Less than two years with her mother before she turned into someone unrecognisable as the disease ate away at her brain.

Then Claudia announced that she was checking herself into the long-term ward not long after. Elze had sat in Stiles room hugged her brother on his bed while Noah and Claudia fought downstairs, the shouting impossible to escape. Elze had idly wondered if this was what it was like for Scott when his parents argued. She hadn't been able to hear what they were saying, but all of a sudden it had grown quiet downstairs, and Elze had wondered if one of her parents had stormed out. A peek outside Stiles's window said not. The jeep was still crushed up in the driveway where the tow truck dropped it off and the police cruiser hadn't left.

Elze had gone back to cuddling Stiles, and while her brother was smart and would figure it out eventually, she wanted him not to know that their mother was dying for a long as possible.

So she had been quiet when her mother poked her head in a while later asking for some help, gently prying Stiles from her body. She thought Claudia meant with packing. Instead, her mother made her climb the stairs to the attic Elze had never actually gone all the way up into, just stood at the bottom while one of her parents passed stuff like Christmas ornaments and suitcases down the steps.

Claudia climbed up the ladder behind her and pulled on the string to click on the single bulb light when she reached the top, and silently led her over to a collection of three big plastic tote boxes, sealed, Elze presumed, to protect the contents from the mice. Claudia sat on one of them and patted it with her hand. "These belonged to my father. I inherited them when he died." Claudia's expression was pained, even in the dim light. "And you will next."

Elze hadn't been able to say anything, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that her mother was dying.

"Sweetheart, a lot's going to change. More than you realise. And I know I'm asking too much of you, but you're going to have to be strong, because so much depends on it." Claudia was deadly serious, and Elze didn't know what to make of her words.

"I don't understand." That was true. There had been so much Elze didn't understand.

"Come here," Claudia beckoned her forward until Elze was sitting on the tote box next to her mother's. "Do you remember when you came home from practice a couple of years ago, and you were really mad about something one of the boys said?"

It was one of the first times Seaver had a go at her and instead of being afraid, Elze had been furious. "You made me tea and asked to talk about it."

"You broke the mug."

Elze nodded. "You made me run my hand under the tap to try and stop a burn."

Claudia took a deep breath. "That was the excuse I used to cover up that you didn't burn your hand. And you didn't break that mug from holding it too tightly."

Elze frowned. She didn't really remember the incident that well, but there's no other way she could have broken the mug. And what the hell did she mean by covering up that she didn't burn? Why? And to be honest, her mother's serious tone scared her. This whole thing was weird. The diagnosis was in the back of Elze's mind. But she was only diagnosed yesterday, why would be acting like this now? She couldn't be delusional yet.

"Mom, you're not making sense," She finally said. Because what else could she say?

Claudia held out her hand. "Give me your hand." She huffed what might have been a laugh when she didn't. "I'm not crazy yet. You need to see this to believe it. You won't give me the benefit of the doubt otherwise."

Elze reached out and put her hand in her mother's, who flipped them so hers was on the bottom. "Promise me you won't interrupt?" She asked, looking Elze in the eye. She nodded. "Promise me," Claudia said again.

"I promise."

"Our family, or rather, my family have a gift that has been passed down for generations. An ability only restricted by our own reservations. Fueled by belief, the strength of our willpower. Our imagination. We're only limited by ourselves. And with the right people, that means the potential of our gift can be infinite."

Elze really, really wanted to make a comment about how her mother sounded like someone out of the X-Men, but she had promised to keep her mouth shut, and her mother took promises very seriously, and never asked for them.

She was completely broken from that train of thought when her mother closed her eyes and Elze suddenly felt a warmth in her palm. Claudia slowly raised her hand from Elze's, and suspended between them was a little ball of golden light. Elze's eyes had gone wide, mouth parting in utter shock of the impossible thing she was seeing. Contrary to having the shit scared out of her, which in the back of her mind Elze felt was the appropriate response, Elze leaned forward to study the light in amazement, feeling drawn to it. It felt safe, comfortable.

"What is it?" Elze whispered.

"In Polish, we call it Iskra."

"Spark," Elze translated. Her mother had insisted that she learn Polish as she grew up. It didn't take a leap of logic to guess why.

Claudia nodded, something like pride in her eyes as Elze studied the ball of light. "We're called Sparks."

* * *

If you had asked Elze before her mother's diagnosis and subsequent revelation who was the scariest person she knew, the answer would be Nurse Melissa McCall.

If you asked Elze today who was the scariest person she knew, the answer would still be Nurse Melissa McCall.

There was a difference between scary and dangerous. Elze's mother could be the latter. Mrs McCall could be the latter. She was always the former. So when Mrs McCall told you to do something, you did it. The case in point at the moment was not leaving at 7pm when she finished her shift so she could see Scott in the evening before bed. It wasn't the insistence on a seatbelt, which, really, they didn't need; their dad was a sheriff. It was the white paper bag with the hospital pharmacy logo that Melissa handed over after Stiles got out of the car.

Elze eyed the bag suspiciously. "What's this?"

"Migraine medication."

"Don't I need to see a doctor for that?"

"I'm a CNP. Or do you not remember the physical I gave you Tuesday?"

"Not really," Elze admitted. Monday had been a bad day. The first of many from what her mother was saying about pushing her limits. Her dad had sorta freaked on Tuesday and brought her to the hospital. Elze remembered seeing Melissa but hadn't really been able to focus for most of it. She did remember feeling better a couple of hours later.

Melissa sighed. "Take these as needed. You can read the directions, but no more than four in a day. If you take too many you'll end up with a rebound headache, so take as little as possible. You could get numbness or tingling in your toes, drowsiness, dizziness, nausea, or tightness in your throat. If you get any of those aside from the migraine, stop taking them and tell me immediately. Same if those are all gone by the end of the month." Melissa fixed her with a serious look. "I will not judge you if you end up addicted, but you need to tell me or I can't help you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Elze really didn't want to take the meds, but she probably wasn't going to have a choice if she wanted to function. And Melissa told her to take them. So she would.

"Your dad will need to fill out a form so you can take those to school. But I imagine if you're taking them you won't be at school, so maybe not."

Elze nodded. Stiles was waving from the front door for her to come and open it so he could get inside. Elze took her house keys and waved them so he could see. "Thank you. And thank you for bringing us home."

"No problem. Though, from what your mom said that wouldn't be much of a problem come next week." Melissa had a sly look on her face.

Elze groaned. "Oh my god. Why is everyone making such a big deal of this?"

Melissa laughed. "Because for as long as I've known you, you've never once shown any interest in a boy, and when you do it's not even a distant crush, he's literally giving you a ride."

Stiles knocked on the windows before Elze could respond and held out a hand for the house keys. Elze rolled her eyes and started to get out of the car. "I'd better go before Stiles breaks your window. And for the record, Peter offering me a ride doesn't imply I have a crush on him. He's a friend."

Melissa looked unconvinced. "Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that. You dad was beginning to think that he wouldn't get to pull the shotgun on some poor boy because you liked girls."

Elze paused halfway through closing the car door. "That logic doesn't make any sense."

"Apparently it does to men. Rafael thought it did. Maybe it's a 'dads who don't' understand their kids' thing." Melissa didn't seem too bothered with figuring that out, but Elze wasn't sure if that was men in general or just her husband. Elze didn't ask. She loved Melissa, but would never tell her that she didn't like her husband that much.

Stiles was already upstairs by the time Elze locked the front door behind her after Melissa drove back down the driveway. Stiles was reading a book in his room and working on some board game at the same time. "Get ready for bed before you get too into that bud, then you won't have to stop when Dad gets home," Elze said. Stiles nodded and followed her out to clean his teeth.

Her bed was still unmade from this morning and her desk had at least half a dozen books opened and stacked on top of each other. There was a patch of wall hidden now by her desk that was a little scorched from when she lost control on Sunday evening and there were pyjamas that hadn't made it into the hamper in her rush to get to school.

But instead of the state of the room or the books on her desk she needed to studying Elze found herself focused on Mrs McCall's words about Peter as she pulled the half-finished work he had collected for her out of her bag. She saw how it could all be misconstrued from the outside.

But she really didn't know Peter that well. She knew he wasn't human. She could sense something rolling underneath the surface, especially during the fight this morning, but when she asked her mother, Claudia had been tight-lipped, saying it was his secret to tell, which Elze could respect.

He was kind. Very kind, comforting her when she didn't even know that she needed it, holding her in the girl's bathroom seemingly without a second thought. Then there were the lifts to the hospital and risking himself to defend her this morning. Elze had to wonder if he was doing it because it was in his nature or because she was different like him. She really hoped it was the former. She liked having a friend who liked her back just because and not out of obligation. She'd had that before.

And now that Melissa had brought having a crush up, she couldn't deny that Peter was attractive. Not that she ever had, but noticing someone's good looks and actually having a crush were two different things for Elze, who had, in fact, had a few crushes before, thank you very much. She just hated listening to girls go on about boys' looks when there was so much more to a person's character. Claudia had told Elze that was a very mature approach to dating. Elze hadn't actually put conscious effort into it to it, it just happened that way.

Besides, who would want to be with a ticking time bomb anyway? She wouldn't do what her mother did to her father, hiding it for decades until she couldn't, and no one in their right mind would sign up for that.

Elze wasn't scary, or even dangerous like her mother.

She was an explosion waiting to go off.

And she was terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, so, sorry this two weeks late. Had some crazy stuff go on the last few weeks. BUT I HAVE A JOB. And this chapter was hard to write on top of all that. I've been going back and forth for weeks on whether the Sheriff was going to know or not, and finally decided that with how I'm going plotwise with this, there's no way he wouldn't. However, he only found out recently alongside Elze. Claudia had kept it a secret for various reasons a la 'Bewitched' style until she was diagnosed.
> 
> Comments are really helpful in telling me what I should add more of or you telling me what you would like to see. (No promises, but ideas always have merit) :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments on what you do like, don't like, and want to see more of. Kudos let me know you at least enjoyed reading it.


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